


But Never Parted

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Bigotry & Prejudice, Bonding, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-09-01
Updated: 2000-09-01
Packaged: 2020-06-24 22:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19732654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: Starfleet splits up the boys.





	But Never Parted

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> Thanks to SAMK for betaing.

"Stardate 8743.6. The Enterprise is on course for Starbase five to obtain needed parts and supplies. We then expect reassignment to the Orion Sector as unexplained activity has been reported in the area for the past few months."

Kirk closed the switch on the log. A glance around the bridge revealed the second shift in place and Lt. Mathers waiting patiently to be given command. The captain stood, transferred command, and stepped into the turbolift. As he opened his mouth to command the lift to the officer's quarters decks he remembered that Spock would still be in engineering assisting with repairs to the auxiliary pre-mix chamber. Finding himself unable to return to his empty quarters he directed the lift to engineering.

As the doors to engineering slid open, he spotted his first kneeling before the open access panels on the far wall. Mr. Scott, two tech assistants and a plethora of tools and parts were strewn in a vaguely organized fashion over the floor around them.

The techs came to attention from their awkward positions as they noticed Kirk approach. One almost dropped the solid cerilium spanner she was holding ready for Mr. Scott. Spock looked up from the pump unit he was reassembling to gaze at the captain as he usually did: like he expected him to be there. "Captain."

"How are things progressing?" Kirk asked.

"We are just puttin' 'er back together." Mr. Scott replied. "Be up and online as backup in about two hours."

Kirk nodded, transfixed with watching long Vulcan fingers working with a fine touch. He shook himself and stood straight. "I'll be in my quarters, let me know when it's completed."

The captain settled himself at his desk and began calling up the last few months of reports regarding the Orions. His head spun with the descriptions of the vast networks and families of legitimate, illegitimate, and grey-market organizations. Last year, two less-prominent families attempted to seize control of interplanetary trade resulting in several small skirmishes that Starfleet had steered clear of. Things had appeared to settle down again but recently ships and stations had been moving in new patterns and outside ships had been reporting harassment in Orion space. After two hours he couldn't focus on it anymore. It was possible the Enterprise wouldn't even be reassigned there. Kirk switched off the display. As he did so, the comm whistled.

"Engineering to Captain." Scotty's voice came across.

"Kirk here."

"We're all finished, Captain. The pre-mix chamber is online and working perfectly."

"Acknowledged. Kirk out." As Kirk stood to get ready for sleep the door chimed. "Come." There was only one being it could be at this hour. Warm anticipation flowed into his limbs from somewhere under his ribcage.

The door slid open and Spock stepped into the room.

"Captain."

Kirk studied him for a moment, enjoying the simple sight of him. "Good evening Mister Spock." Dark eyes followed human movements as he shed his uniform. He then slid over to the room divider. "Care to spend the night?"

An eyebrow twitched. "Perhaps," he said coyly, though he fidgeted uncharacteristically.

"Did you lock the door?"

Spock nodded but did not move.

Kirk slid around the divider into the sleeping area. Peeking back around the corner, he said, "Coming?"

"Indeed," Spock replied and followed. Kirk slipped into the bed, Spock sat beside him on the edge.

"Anyone in the corridor when you came in?" he asked, stroking one lean arm with affection.

A shake of the head.

Kirk studied him, noted the underlying tension, the uncertain eyes.

Grateful that he could attempt to remedy his friend's pain, he reached up and pulled the other down beside him, capturing his mouth in his own for a long kiss. As always, he willingly lost himself in the alien scent of the other: sun-baked stone and dried herb.

Kirk's body tried to respond to the kiss and the feel of the hard body lying against him, but fatigue dampened the effect. He sighed and rested his head back on the pillow. "Perhaps in the morning." He said, closing his eyes and wishing for the stamina of his teenage years.

The bed shifted as Spock stood to undress and returned to the bed, this time under the covers. Again the heat built but failed to ignite in Kirk's belly. He wrapped his arms around the narrow frame and pulled tight. A minute later, sleep sucked him down like some kind of unnatural gravity.

Spock rested his head on the single pillow and listened to the deep human breaths grow longer with sleep. The golden glow of Kirk's spirit pulsing so close was both comfort and torment. He pulled stronger shields up around his mind in the face of the onslaught and tried to relax otherwise.

At just after oh-four-hundred Spock's need for relief from the constant siren of Kirk's mind grew too great. He came up out of a light meditative state feeling like he had just crossed a wide desert and was now resisting drinking from a cool, clear spring. His shifting aroused his bedmate.

"Everything all right?" Kirk murmured sleepily.

Spock sat up. "I am in need of meditation. I am returning to my quarters."

Kirk mumbled something like acceptance and rolled over away from him.

More clearly he said, "Come back before shift if you want sex."

Spock's mouth twitched in chagrin at the thought of minor physical pleasure compared to such intense psychic need. He ran one hand over Kirk's covered back in a gesture of pure emotion than stood to dress and depart.

The next day did not begin well for Kirk. Still two days out from Starbase Five and Admiral Wright had already ammended their orders again. They were to hold over an extra two days beyond what was required for re-stocking. Kirk quit the bridge early to review the Orion situation again while he was more alert. Stretching a stiff neck he sat at his desk and started over with the first Special Forces report.

On the bridge Uhura sat at the communications board following the main comm traffic around the Starbase. She also kept an eye on the monitor of incoming and outgoing personal and automatic messages being sent on-and off-ship, which is why when the untagged message came in she saw it immediately. Untagged messages were not supposed to be sent on Starfleet channels since they bore no trace information.

Uhura opened the message and felt a sick, angry feeling. She called for a replacement and left the bridge.

The door buzzer pulled Kirk out midway through the third report. At his invitation the door parted to reveal Lieutenant Uhura.

As she had pressed the door buzzer, Uhura realized that she was correctly and obediently following someone else's manipulative script.

This brought the sick feeling back again as the doors swished open before her.

The captain looked up, saw the disturbed look on the normally composed face and asked, "What can I do for you, Lieutenant?"

She stepped lightly into the room and let the doors close behind her. "I have been unwillingly recruited as a messenger." She held out a yellow memory cassette. "I'm sorry, Sir." She added quietly.

Kirk didn't take his eyes off of hers as he took the pro-offered cassette and placed it into his reader. His eyes narrowed in confusion a moment, Uhura supposed he saw the blank headers. Then he sat back with pursed lips a moment before leaning forward again and resting his elbow on the table, fingers on lips. "Have a seat Lieutenant." Uhura hid her surprise and did as instructed. Kirk was silent a while, deep in thought, before speaking. "I take it you know, Lieutenant."

She forced calm into her limbs and face. "Yes, Sir."

"How many of the senior officers know?"

"Uh, all of them. I believe, Sir."

Kirk didn't react at all to this news, only sat staring in thought at the terminal display which read: "...under notice that the non-fraternization policy is going to be enforced. Request that you gain the cooperation of your First. Schedule a meeting with me upon arrival at Base."

"Why do you think Wright used this means of communication?"

Uhura's brow furrowed. She had seen only negative connotations in the message, now faced with the question, she found herself less certain.

"I'm not sure, Captain." She paused. "He apparently doesn't want to make it official."

"Hmmm," Kirk mulled. "Apparently."

"There has been some gossip, some complaints." She said out loud to herself. Kirk's head came up. "Uh. Some of the more recently assigned personnel are First Earthers and they have been more vocal than most."

"The captain is always the last to know," Kirk murmured. "I thought we brought the previous one into the fold with little incident."

"We seemed to, Sir. The latest group have stronger opinions." She frowned. "Earlier groups had a hard time dealing with the conflict of joining a space organization to further the goal of returning Earth to pre-contact culture and values. New recruits seem to have accepted the dichotomy and are in stronger denial as a result."

"How many current crewmembers are we talking about?"

She hoped he wouldn't ask for names. "I think around five or six."

"What is their plan?" he asked himself out loud.

"They claim to be patient enough to wait until they make it to the admiralty where they intend to begin withdrawing from Federation military action." At Kirk's doubtful look she added, "They have the support of many major corporations."

Kirk shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense; they are the ones who benefit the most from interplanetary trade."

"I don't think they want to cut into their profits. They just don't appreciate the cultural changes that have happened as a result of ... "

She shrugged. "Their word is 'intermingling'."

A dubious look ruled Kirk's face. He thought for another long moment before nodding that she could leave. Uhura moved to depart. "If you need anything, Captain, I'm only too happy to assist." Kirk nodded acceptance and she exited.

"Mr. Spock. Report to my quarters at your convenience," he spoke into the desk comm.

The cremember in question sat alone in the computer core, programming an update to the battlestations drill code. He acknowledged the call and put the curiosity aside, having learned from experience that "at your convenience" did not mean immediately and that Kirk truly did not wish to interrupt him. He settled back into the updating, his face highlighted in the blue glow of the terminals.

Moments after shift-end Kirk's door chimed. Hands behind his back, Spock entered the room.

Kirk stood behind his desk before the monitor, one hand poised over the controls. Spock's back stiffened unconsciously as he noted the unfamiliar posture of defeat in his friend's frame.

"What is it, Jim?" He asked as he came around the desk. Rare concern tainted his voice.

Kirk met his gaze and tried to smile in greeting before looking down again. "I received a message from Wright. He wants to reassign you."

A brow lifted. "Did he say why?"

The human frowned. "He implies that he is being pressured to enforce the non-fraternization rule." Speaking of non-fraternization made Kirk sharply aware of how close to him Spock stood at this moment, close enough to feel the excessive radiant body heat.

"Pressured by whom?"

"By the First Earth movement."

Spock's crossed his arms. "I was not aware that Starfleet was now in a position to be influenced by religious movements."

"They aren't directly. But regular appropriations are up for renewal and the movement has gained enough momentum to pressure Earth Parliament into making concessions to them in return for support."

"And we have been singled out in this, somehow?"

Kirk paced around to the other side of the desk. "Wright said the Firsters found us an 'intolerable symbol' of everything they believe is wrong on modern Earth. That we had three strikes against us." At a curious look he continued: "One: that I'm some kind of good-old country boy and you're an alien. Two: that we are both male. And Three...well just...you."

Spock considered that. "Indeed," he finally commented. "May I see the message?"

"Sure. It's in the slot." Kirk replied, taking a seat in his own visitor's chair. Kirk watched the angular face as it held neutral while reading the message.

Spock switched the viewer off. "Interesting. This is an unofficial message."

"I'm holding out some hope for that. Wright wants to meet with me when we dock at Starbase Five." He paused. "I'm not giving you up without a fight."

A strange ambivalence descended over the Vulcan as he stood looking down across the desk at his Captain. Concern for Kirk's well-being tugged against the prospect of rest from the heavy psychic fatigue from constantly resisting a bond with him.

Kirk looked sharply at him and stood up. Standing before the other, managing to project himself taller, he said in an unreadable voice, "Unless you want to leave." Uncertainty and hurt clouded his hazel eyes.

Spock met his gaze with a Vulcan calm. "I prefer to be at your side, Jim." It was the truth, Spock decided.

Backing down, Kirk said, "Sorry. I know you can't express...I shouldn't take my anger out on you."

Spock drew close and pulled the muscular human against him. The object of this attention squeezed his eyes shut against the surge of pain the thought of losing it caused. Long fingers lifted his chin for a balming kiss.

"We have a meeting in ten minutes," Kirk said at the first pause.

Spock was studying him in detail. "Perhaps afterward."

Human hands gripped the banded leanness of Spock's back a long moment before releasing him.

As Kirk walked back to his quarters from briefing room three he thought he could feel a somber feel to the crew. Certain that Uhura would have remained silent, he attributed it to the crew's tendency to mimic his own mood. Once in his quarters, he waited for Spock who arrived just over a minute later. Kirk wrapped him up in his arms the instant the doors slid closed.

Spock accepted the attention and molded himself against the smaller, softer body and returned the deep kiss he was receiving. Kirk stiffened suddenly in Spock's arms and pulled away holding the other at arms-length.

"This may be the last chance we have to be together," Kirk spoke, apparently stunned by the realization. "We arrive at base in thirty-three hours."

"I have every confidence in your negotiating skills Captain. Wright has not made it an official order, nor for that matter, opened an inquiry."

Kirk's arms were tight around him. He would miss this absolute acceptance, if it came to that, more than any other facet of his relationship with Kirk.

The dark note in Kirk's eyes indicated that the captain was not so certain.

Spock backed up a step to reach the control on the desk and the door lock. He then bent to mouth the cool neck as he pulled the open the shoulder seal on the uniform shirt. With easy efficiency he finished undressing the other before steering him up against the room divider.

Kirk had also managed to divest the taller man of his uniform top and thermal undershirt. Spock grasped Kirk's wrists in one strong hand and held them both fast behind the other's back as he knowingly stroked the human into a needy erection. He then caressed chest, abdomen, and arms with a maddeningly slow patience.

Kirk's breath heaved and a bead of sweat had formed on his flank before Spock relented and knelt before him. Still holding fast to Kirk's hands, he took the hungry cock into his mouth. The being above him released a rewarding half gasp-half moan of relief. Through the physical contact, Spock felt Kirk release the stress of the day and his worries for the future.

As the ministrations began to push him to the edge of climax, Kirk breathed, "I want to be inside you." Spock released him and Kirk watched as he removed the remainder of his own clothing. A cool hand traced Spock's side and over one buttock as he bent to remove his pants.

"God, you're beautiful." Kirk whispered.

After another deep flesh-pressed kiss, Kirk led them to the bed. A kind of cold desperation threatened to overcome Kirk as he pulled his friend down with him, making it hard to catch his breath. He pulled a blanket over them and stoked the hard muscles of Spock's torso as if to memorize the feel of his course chest hair, the surface of each ripple of abdominal muscle.

Spock halted him by grasping his arms. "Jim," he said softly. "Are you all right?"

Kirk was slow to meet his eyes and when he did they were bright.

Kirk shook him off, masked his pain, and rolled over on top of the wonderfully warm body.

The Enterprise sailed into dock at Starbase Five. Her captain was the third crewmember off the docking tube, heading for Admiral Wright's office with single-minded intent. Wright only made him wait seven minutes in the overly-comfortable waiting room before the secretary admitted him. With purposeful stride, Kirk entered the spartan office, noting that it took five long strides to get to the large desk. Wright stood to greet him then immediately sat again. Kirk noticed a bit more grey in the very short, sandy hair of the man than he remembered. It lent the human an air of authority, which probably explained him not taking action to prevent it.

"Thank you for coming, Captain." Wright gestured to the chair across from himself.

"It was an order," Kirk reminded him, gritting his teeth against his desire to speak out of line.

"Yes," Wright replied in a distracted voice as he studied his files a moment. A charade: Kirk knew he had a photographic memory.

Kirk's patience wore thin. "Can you tell me the real reason you are trying to take my first officer?"

The older man looked up. "I told you the real reason."

"It seems insufficient, _Sir_."

"You are too out of touch." Wright bristled. "Too many edge-of-fed-space runs for you, I think." Wright turned off his monitor and turned to face Kirk, hands clasped in front of him. "Costs a lot of money running a star fleet, Jim. They are holding, not all, but a lot of the purse-strings now."

"They?"

"The First Earthers...and others." He sat back, relaxed. "These kinds of things are cyclic, Jim, you know that. You had top marks in history at the academy. People's comfort levels have been pushed too far, so now it is time to push back. Makes everyone feel like they have some control, even if it is just of their neighbor's private life."

Kirk eyed him. "You don't sound like you are fighting it very hard."

Wright pursed his lips and shook his head. "Only makes it worse. Nothing they like more than martyrs." He looked Kirk over a moment. "Nothing they hate more than symbols."

"You used that word in the message," Kirk prompted.

"Don't you follow the news feeds?"

"Not unless they are relevant to the mission or extremely important."

"Jim, your first officer alone is quite a symbol."

Kirk cut him off. "He's a symbol of everything this organization stands for." He stated with a faint hint malice.

"Well, now." Wright picked up a stray stylus from his desk and examined it closely. "Organizations can be changed, albeit slowly. Beings can't.

Those who want to redefine this organization know that. They've targeted him because they can't change who he is, but they can lesson the effect he has on people's thinking."

"So this isn't about him and me... it is just about him."

Wright spun his chair and stood. "Not entirely." He came around the desk and sat on the edge facing Kirk. Overbearing and fatherly. "You, Jim."

He poked Kirk's chest with the stylus. "You are apple pie, wholesome white bread, in danger of deep corruption." Kirk gave him such a dubious look that Wright sat back.

"You must be kidding," Kirk said.

The Admiral crossed his arms and looked stern. "Look Kirk, you have no choice in this matter." Kirk opened his mouth to protest but was cut off. " _But_ , I'm going to give you one anyway, because I happen to think you deserve one." He paused and Kirk remained silent, waiting. "The options are as follows. One, Spock accept a transfer to the Yorktown--"

"The Yorktown! Captain Baker is the least competent command rank in the fleet and a bigot on top of that. Does he want Spock?"

"Yes, actually, he does. Has been very vocal about it, complains about even allocation of talent."

"Why the hell would he? He despises Vulcans." Kirk paused. "The First Earthers really like him, don't they."

"I don't know for certain." Wright replied. "But I get that impression.

But that has nothing to do with it. He just has an open science position."

"That's because he goes through officers like King Rudolph goes through skeets."

"Now, now, Kirk. This is a fellow Captain you are discussing." Kirk gave him a hard look. "The other option is that the Vulcans want him."

"Which Vulcans?"

"The old USS Zephr has been re-outfitted as a science vessel to replace Intrepid. They are just embarking on some kind of galaxial thread research mission. The ship is equipped now with some amazing equipment to study the structure of the universe. They would like your first officer as well." He let Kirk digest that. "The upside of that is the mission is two months, tops." Kirk looked hopefully up at him, causing Wright to shift uncomfortably.

Kirk thought a long moment. "The final decision is Spock's," he said coldly, trying to mask his sense of defeat.

"The beauty of this is that everyone is happy."

Kirk gave him a hard look.

"The problem is satisfied for now; you get your officer back in relatively short time; and the Firsters get their most loathed symbol shipped back to his own people. For now, they don't have to know it is temporary. You really have no choice: fraternization across rank is strictly against the books."

"But it is has nothing to do with that." Kirk restrained himself from pointing out the rampant violations of this rule that were going unpunished in the meantime. Officers did have a gentleman's agreement about such things.

"Doesn't matter." Wright stood straight and returned to his desk chair.

"Talk to your first, let me know what is decided." He turned his monitor back on and ignored Kirk, who took the hint and departed.

Back on the Enterprise, Spock sat in his quarters reviewing the sensor logs. He found himself illogically unable to focus on the charts and long strings of numbers. The door slid open without a chime and Kirk stepped in. The captain took up a seat at the table across from him, setting his elbows on the edge, chin on hands.

Spock noticed that the human looked distinctly unhappy. The inevitability of his own transfer struck home with more force than he would have expected. He suddenly remembered the first time the two of them were physically close. Spock had melded with the orb-like lifeforms on Mantris Eleven. He had perhaps been overconfident and had not shielded sufficiently because the meld had stripped him of all control, had assailed his mind with incompatible energies. With an odd clarity, the memories flowed back: regaining consciousness wrapped in human arms, blankets tucked around him in an effort to keep him out of shock, the litany of comforting words Kirk spoke to pull him back and tie him to reality. It had been the first time in his adult life that he had so relied on another in such a vulnerable state. The memory of it made him uneasy.

He looked at the broad-shouldered man across from him. His eyes fell from the hazel eyes to the captain's stripes, and he reminded himself that rank alone left him vulnerable to this man, that he chose this position willingly.

"Wright did not change his mind?" Spock asked.

Kirk shook his head, looking him over. "He offered an option though you only have to take it if you want to."

An eyebrow rose in question.

"The Zephr has started its mission and they would take you for the duration." The captain tried and failed to read his friend's face.

Spock spoke carefully, "That is a very interesting mission."

Tossing his head, Kirk replied, "Take it then. It is either that or the Yorktown."

"That would not be my first choice," Spock said, then added, "The Zephr is an excellent scientific opportunity."

"You can return at the end."

"You are certain?" At Kirk's confusion, Spock continued, "In the interim, Fleet will assign replacements. At the end of the Zephr's mission, I will only be reassigned to the Enterprise if there is an opening."

Understanding settled in on the captain. "We'll make it work," he said with cold determination.

Spock looked doubtful, but declined to reply.

The remaining four days on base passed rapidly, much too rapidly for one human captain in particular. Briefings filled with caution and worry about the Orion situation did only a little to distract him from the fact that when the Enterprise departed Starbase Five it would leave without Spock. Spock, for his part, worked non-stop to settle organizational and research issues on the Enterprise. He and Kirk had not had even five minutes together alone since Spock had notified Wright of his acceptance.

When the all-call to return to the Enterprise rang out over the base public address system, captain and first officer found themselves outside the access tube in docking bay seven. They stood in silence while crewmembers filed past on their return to the ship. All but a few intrepid ones kept their eyes firmly off of the pair standing in the middle of the corridor.

Nothing really need be said. Kirk reached out a hand and patted one warm arm. With a sad smile he said, "Take care, Spock."

"And you, Captain. Exercise caution."

Kirk nodded in reply. With a long look, he turned slowly toward the airlock, reluctance in each step. As he walked down the access tube, he assuaged his rampant emotions with the thought that no matter what happened, Spock would be safe. The Enterprise was heading into an interplanetary civil war but Spock would be safely ensconced on the Zephr in the heart of Federation Space. Kirk would not have to order him out on any insanely dangerous tasks. He would be safe. He heartened himself with this realization all the way to the staff room for the first meeting of the new top officers and bridge crew.

As Kirk entered the briefing room, he found McCoy's brilliant blue eyes drilling him in silence. Kirk gave him an "I'll survive" look.

Introductions went around. Commander Flores, the new science officer was small-framed women with a puffy hairstyle that made her look unregulation. First Officer Lt. Tamarin was a thin red-head with a close-cropped beard. He sat with his arms folded as if for warmth, reminding Kirk of someone else.

Kirk gave them the warmest welcome he could muster then shifted immediately into the Orion situation. What Starfleet didn't know would fill the hollow asteroid of Centauris. What they did know was worrisome.

Ships were now disappearing, not just being harassed. The top families of the Orion main colony worlds seemed to have fallen out of communication and were no longer conducting business. The homeworld blustered and denied that anything out of the ordinary was happening.

"...so our orders are to proceed to here," the captain pointed at a star chart, "on this edge of Orion space, patrolling along the border. We are to make observations and try to protect private vessels in the area.

Three ships have disappeared in this region in the last month. Lots of strange reports from others." Kirk looked around the table. Everyone, even an hour later, was still attentive. "Any questions?"

Chekov raised two fingers for attention. "Kiptin, what other Starfleet ships will be in the area?"

"Ah, yes. The Farragut and the Lexington have also been assigned to the Orion situation." He changed the display to a broader view of the complicated, amoeba-like shape of Orion space. "Lexington will be patrolling on the Axian side of Orion space. The Farragut will not arrive for another fifteen days. Her assignment has not yet been determined. Also several cruisers and specialty ships have had their patrols moved to be closer to potential trouble areas."

"So..." Chekov continued. "Not a lot of backup."

"We aren't expected to need it; in Command's view, this is just the Orions after all." Kirk switched off the viewer then stood. "First shift to the bridge for departure."

Spock had not intended to watch the Enterprise undock. He was arranging transport on another Starfleet vessel in the operations office which had a viewport in the ceiling. The officer at the reception desk who was handling his arrangements looked up for a long moment so Spock had done the same out of natural curiosity. The Enterprise was half in view, rotating to it's own new plane as it powered away on impulse. Spock watched until it shrunk to a speck too small to observe unaided.

When he looked back at the clerk, the man held out Spock's order and schedule chits with a quiet patience.

"Your ship?" He asked.

"It was."

The human appraised him then gave him a sympathetic look. "Good luck."

Spock nodded and took the proffered chits. He had grown accustomed to the crew's random desire for emotional contact, but this total stranger's outreach caught him by surprise. It was not only unwelcome, it unexpectedly weakened his own internal barriers.

Seven days out from Starbase Five, Kirk responded to McCoy's request for a visit to his office at the end of shift. The captain didn't bother to buzz at McCoy's door.

The doctor sat at his disorganized desk, reading a file. "Come on in.

Have a seat," he drawled. Kirk took the other chair in the office, moving it closer to the desk. "So, Captain. I just finished the new crew physicals and you'll be happy to know that everyone is in ship-shape."

"You called me down here to tell me that?"

"No, not just that. I also haven't had a chance to talk to you in the last week."

"Things have been busy." Kirk replied. McCoy noticed the wounded edge to Kirk's voice was still present.

"How are you holding up?"

Kirk's brow furrowed. "It's only been a week, Bones."

"I know. I might mention that both Flores and Tamarin mentioned that they have been quite pleased with how they have been accepted aboard, especially by you. They know Spock is expected to return at the end the Zephr mission."

"Who told them that?"

"No one I know, but these things get around. Makes things simpler that way doesn't it? They'll do the honorable thing, step aside..."

"What are you getting at?" Kirk asked with a hard edge to his manner.

McCoy shrugged. "Seems to me you didn't fight this thing very hard and now a lot of people have to rearrange their lives for you to get what you want. It would have been a lot easier to not have given in in the first place."

"There were two choices: Spock goes to the Yorktown or Spock goes to the Zephr."

"Whoa, whoa." McCoy leaned forward. "This doesn't sound like the James Kirk I know. Accepting the choices put in front of him?"

Kirk opened his mouth and then closed it again without replying.

"What is it, Jim?"

Kirk frowned. "I... I'm not sure Spock didn't want to leave."

McCoy leaned back in his chair. "Hmmm," was all he said.

Kirk continued, "He'd been so antsy lately. Standoff-ish. And it wasn't that he was avoiding me, exactly, but he seemed uncomfortable around me where before he had really relaxed." He sighed. "I don't know."

"Did you ask him about this?"

"I tried in the end, but..." He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Jim." McCoy said.

Kirk stood and nodded acceptance. "Anything else you wanted to talk about?" At McCoy's shake of the head, Kirk left.

Spock stood in the engineering workshop aboard the Zephr assembling a sensor module for the main array. The room had emptied forty-six minutes ago and the silence was quite welcome. That was the biggest change for Spock since coming aboard the Zephr: the silence. The all-Vulcan crew spoke quietly, walked quietly, and even ate quietly. Spock had not felt so relaxed while on duty since he joined Starfleet.

Placing the completed unit into a padded case, Spock mused that this task was by far the most critical one he had been assigned. Captain Sren, a tall, broad, solidly built Vulcan with a prominent square jaw, had started Spock's assignments out in very non-critical areas of the test equipment. Apparently Spock's performance was more than adequate, as he had responsibility now for the most sensitive units only a week later. After double checking that the case and tools were locked firmly into their storage units he exited the shop.

It was nearing the end of meal time. With only a crew of thirty-one, meals were only available during a one hour window. Spock suspected that this rule was less a technical one than a social engineering one, but he accepted it. The meals were only half machine-prepared. The assistant to the lead physicist handled cooking duties, and as a result, the food was by far the best Vulcan cuisine available off-planet.

Spock entered the mess. One or two crew looked up at him and acknowledged him with a glance. Spock collected a tray and sat at the far end of a table occupied by a meditating D'Winh, the navigator. She opened her eyes and regarded him with, had she been human, a look that Spock would have believed meant she was pleased to see him.

"I am not disturbing you?" Spock asked.

"Certainly not." She regarded him in a long look.

Spock glanced around the room rather than meet her eyes. It was a room of metered conversation and calculated movement; he allowed himself to relax his control.

"That is an improvement." D'Winh's voice pulled his attention back. His controls snapped firmly back into place.

She shook her head slightly and stood up in a graceful, efficient movement. "If you will excuse me?"

After a split second of additional recovery time, Spock nodded. As D'Winh walked away, Captain Sren approached.

"I need to know a completion time estimate for the last five modules,"

he said.

"I have just finished them." Spock replied.

Not even the faintest flicker crossed Sren's face, but Spock was certain the other was experiencing surprise. "Indeed. I will inform Turen."

"I left him a message on his terminal," Spock said.

After a pause, Sren added, "I will have to find another task for you."

Spock pushed his tray aside and steepled his fingers in front of himself. "I overheard T'Ring and Turen discussing the mathematics of the data collection. I would like to contribute if possible."

Sren thought a moment. "If you believe you are capable of contributing to this phase of the project..."

"I am...quite certain I can contribute something positive." Spock had come to realize that while humans had egos, Vulcans had something much more complex and not as easily assuaged, resulting, ironically, in a more difficult situation where crew assignment was involved.

Sren nodded in acceptance of this. "I will inform T'Ring."

As Sren exited, Spock deposited his tray in the recycler. As he walked back to his quarters, he wondered if Sren had read his vitae; and if he had, why he had continually exhibited a reluctance to give Spock any significant duties. Spock had not encountered any bias that he could detect in any other crewmembers. It certainly suggested that Sren had not requested him for this mission as Admiral Wright had said, which begged the question of where Wright really stood on this issue of Spock's service.

It took the Enterprise nearly another week to reach the edge of Orion space. Tamarin turned out to be an excellent organizer. Kirk watched over the last five days as he drilled the bridge crew on not only the course but also on target identification, Orion clan hierarchy, and obscure emergency procedure. The result was a tradeoff of fatigue for confidence, though Kirk wasn't expecting anything immediately and figured they'd have a chance to recover. He was right; they spent interminable long days patrolling, scanning, and listening.

Kirk sat in his quarters going over reports when the door chimed.

"Come." Kirk said. Lt. Tamarin stepped in. As his profile stepped out of the light from the hallway, Kirk noted that while he was a thin as Spock, he had a gangly-ness that made him very un-Spock like. "What can I do for you, Mister Tamarin?"

"Uh..." the man blushed and there was no hiding it: his face lit up almost to the color of his hair. "One of the bridge crew happened to mention that you are an ardent chess player, Sir."

Kirk held his expression utterly still. "That is true."

"Well, uh, I was wondering if you were interested in playing a few games?"

"Perhaps tomorrow after first shift, in the rec room." Kirk said. It would be the first time Kirk had been to the recreation center since the mission began.

Tamarin bowed and backed to the door where he took a long, awkward step through the doorway. In the resulting quiet, Kirk realized he dearly missed Spock. He hoped he was getting along on the Zephr. He selfishly hoped Spock was missing him as well though not enough to cause him difficulty. Kirk sighed into the empty room and shutdown the report reader.

Spock sat in on the next meeting to discuss the methodology for data collection for the second phase of the project. Phase one had just finished when Spock had arrived on board, and he had spent most of his time catching up with all aspects of the project.

T'Ring, Turen, and two student crewmembers sat around a low table discussing the design of the sensor array and how the current design would effect the amount of error in the data. A three-dimensional image hung over the table showing the sensor array overlaid with regions representing interference from the ship and the sensors themselves.

Spock sat silently through most of the meeting. While he had retained his rank, it had no relation to his authority.

The conversation had become circular and T'Ring put a stop to it. In the ensuing silence, Spock said, "Perhaps it would be best to put the array in place and calibrate it, rather than trying to predict where the noise will come from and what it's impact will be."

Everyone looked at him unreadably. They were theoretical scientists.

Spock's early science education on Vulcan had also been very heavily theoretical, but being in Starfleet for almost twenty years had turned him into an empirical scientist: after all, if in the end it doesn't work, people die, ships explode, bad things could happen. Theory for Spock was now just a means to an end; the end being to get machines, computers, and devices to function. This was at best a sacreligious viewpoint with the present company.

No one spoke for several minutes. Turen finally said, "We will fall behind schedule if the array is not installed in the next three calendar days."

"That is true," T'Ring said, as though wishing it weren't.

Kirk entered the crowded rec-room. The lull in active duty resulted in much higher participation in off-duty activities. Tamarin sat at the games table with the tri-D chess set ready for a new game with the white pieces set for the captain. Kirk projected calm confidence as he strode across the room and returned nods of acknowledgement.

"Captain." Tamarind stood as Kirk approached.

"Mr. Tamarin," Kirk said as sat down. As the other sat as well, Kirk noted his effort to mask his young eagerness. A number of other crewpeople wandered over to watch the game. Kirk observed Tamarin's eagerness shift to nervousness as the ring of bodies formed around them.

"Uh, it is your move, Captain," Tamarin said shyly.

Kirk smiled and moved a pawn.

As the game continued, Kirk took a conservative stance, observing Tamarin's change of tactics as Kirk feinted occasionally to throw him off. After ten minutes, Tamarin seemed to sense that Kirk was not truely on the offensive. The younger man aborted his move to pick up his bishop and studied the board carefully with a faint look of consternation.

"You should be studying me, not the board," Kirk admonished, "since it is my motives you are questioning."

Tamarin looked up in surprise and then blushed. The ten or so crew around them shifted in amusement.

"I don't think I have the skill to defeat you, Sir."

"Well, certainly if I'm not trying to win."

"It seemed like..." he faded. "When you made the knight-bishop trade I thought...well..."

Kirk sat back. "Watching you play, I think you may be suseptible to over-analysis, Mr. Tamarin."

"You think so, Sir?" He sounded honestly surprised by the criticism.

"Shall we continue?" Kirk nodded at the board.

Decisively, Tamarin moved his rook up two levels. Kirk responded by setting up an attack with his queen. Tamarin came back with an another immediate move.

"Check," he said.

Kirk gave the other a look and moved his king out of harm's way.

Tamarin made another immediate move, this one unthinking. As soon as he released his knight he flinched. Kirk took it with his queen.

"Mate in four moves, Mr. Tamarin." Kirk said.

"Yes Sir."

Kirk watched Tamarin chew his lip as he studied the remains of the game.

Kirk stood and said, "There is a happy medium between instinct and analysis."

"I suppose there is, Sir."

On the fifth day of patrol the Enterprise finally detected something.

"Captain, we are receiving a scattered bounce of a tight-beam Orion distress message." Uhura said in her silken voice.

Kirk spun in his chair, "Can you translate it?"

She touched one red fingernail to her earpiece. "Just a moment, Captain." After several moments of adjustment she said, "It is a message from an Orion space station, a private station...they are under some kind of attack."

"Pass the signal coordinates to Helm. Mr. Sulu plot a course to your best guess of the origination of that signal. We have an excuse to enter Orion space; let's make use of it."

Sulu's hands flickered over his board. "Course plotted and laid in, Sir."

"Very good. Warp five. ETA?"

"Fourteen hours, three minutes, Captain."

"Sp... Commander, long range scans show anything?" He frowned at himself and stood up to walk to the science console.

Commander Flores shook her head without looking up from the viewer. When she did look up she studied Kirk far too closely.

"Keep scanning, Commander." Kirk said softly to apologize for the slip.

As they approached the system Sulu had identified as the source of the signal, Kirk ordered a halt.

"I'm getting something, Captain." Flores said from her station. "Putting it on main screen."

The distress signals had ceased over ten hours ago and Kirk now saw why.

Seven small ships were systematically cutting away at the station. Even with the damage the original glory of the station still showed.

Grandiose docking bays with florettes and spires as well as gold-plated viewports adorned the now-dark hulk. The ships seemed to be concentrating on what may have been the control tower, an especially baroque-looking contraption.

Kirk sensed Tamarin at his shoulder. "That module they are cutting away is in the shape of the House G'Dsabg Seal."

Kirk turned to him. "You think they're taking it away as a trophy?"

Flores interrupted, "Captain, I think we need to take a look at these ships."

"What are they?"

"That's just it, Sir. They don't match anything in the databank.

Fifty-thousand metric tons. Length: one-hundred eighty-six meters. Hull composition unknown. Our sensors are unreliable at scanning the interior but it doesn't look like they have shielding, so I don't understand what it going on with that."

"Do they know we're here?"

She bent over the hood. "I believe we are well within their sensor range."

Kirk moved back to his chair. "So. We are unimportant. That is...different."

They watched the bulbous, disk-shaped, silver ships darting around the station, cutting away at the superstructure in unorganized passes over it.

"Captain! Two ships have left the station and are on a course directly for us." Flores voice had gone up an octave.

"Red Alert," Kirk said. "Shields at maximum. Take no offensive action.

Let's see what they do." He turned to Uhura. "Can you hail them?"

She shook her head.

"One-hundred thousand kilometers and closing fast." Chekov said.

"Course one-oh-seven mark four impulse only. Let them pass overhead."

The silver orbs pealed off overhead.

"Weapons charging!" Flores shouted.

"Flores..." Kirk started to remonstrate her for her overzealous reporting. He was interrupted by the bridge rocking severely and the lights flickering. "What was that?" Kirk demanded as the artificial gravity stabilized.

"Some kind of energy beam from the two ships," Sulu supplied. "They're coming around again." Kirk was grateful for a calm voice.

"Current course, warp three," Kirk ordered.

After a moment delay Scotty's voice came over the intercom. "Not a chance, Captain. The mains are offline. Direct hit on the condensers."

"Through the shields?" Kirk asked no one in particular. "Weapons, target those ships, I want full phasers on both when they get in range."

Hands flew over panels with practiced accuracy. "Here they come!" Chekov announced.

The Enterprise's phasers rang out, one scored a hit that seemed to deflect off an angle and disperse as though passing through a prism. The alien ships fired one after the other. The Enterprise rocked sickly.

This time the lights didn't come back up and the emergencies had to kick in. In the pale red light Kirk clamered down to the weapons console.

Uhura's voice followed him down. "Decks twelve and thirteen report a hull breach. Emergency teams en-route."

"Photon torpedos ready?" Kirk asked.

Chekov nodded. On screen the little ships had passed under to starboard and were on a slow arc back toward the Orion station.

"Fire, Sir?"

Kirk watched as their course straightened out and away. "Hold your fire," he said sharply. He breathed deeply. The air seemed stale. "Hold your fire," he repeated. On screen the station had been cut into two.

"Scotty. What can you give me?"

After a long delay the engineer came on. "In terms of propulsion?"

"Yes." Kirk backed up into his chair and sat heavily.

"Aboot three-fifths impulse power. It's a real mess down here."

"We need it. Helm set course three-seven mark zero, three-fifths impulse."

"How long before warp is available?"

"I doen' know, Captain. I'll call when I do."

The emergency lighting was still on. The air seemed staler. "Uhura.

Status."

"Major damage on decks twelve and thirteen. Minor damage to decks three, four, and five. Seventeen injured, four dead."

Kirk closed his eyes for a long moment. "Flores, what the hell hit us?"

He refused to let himself wish Spock were here.

Flores sat at her station facing the captain. Her lips moved a moment with no sound before she found her voice. "I am not certain. I...It looks like a conventional laser but somehow carried on another beam.

Like a subspace beam or something like a subspace beam. At least, that's what it looks like from the four sensor samples I have."

Kirk stared at her, tongue working at the back of his teeth. "The shields are transparent to subspace."

"Yes, Sir." She seemed to relax. "The resulting beam is not well-focused as you may have noticed."

"No, I hadn't noticed. You are saying we were hit with a poorly-focused beam."

"Yes, Sir. Lasers are not effective if they aren't focused, unless they are very high power. These were moderately powered and moderately focused."

Kirk tapped his fingers on his armrest. "And they didn't finish us off which they could have easily. So...this was just a demonstration. Well, I'm not above taking a hint. Uhura, tight beam secure transmission to Starfleet, tell them what has happened."

They retreated on impulse power for twenty minutes. Kirk itched to visit sickbay to see the damage and shore up morale where he could, but he couldn't leave the bridge so close to hostile forces. It would be hours before they was any kind of buffer between them.

Spock sat programming in his quarters. He justified working on his code module alone on the basis of the disruption to his thinking of T'Ring and her assistant's working style. It was long after shift at this point but he continued to work rather than sleep or meditate. He had realized over the last few days that while the scientific mission of this assignment was interesting and the level of research impeccable, he was losing interest in it. This evening he had finally admitted to himself that he was bored. The work, while intellectually stimulating, did not hold his interest the way multiple projects and continuous discovery--not to mention the high stress--did on the Enterprise.

He stared at the lines of computer code on the screen without really seeing them. An emotion had been slowly building in him over the last two weeks and now it demanded attention. His first effort at suppressing the empty chill of lonliness failed so he was forced to resort to meditation. He closed down the terminal and moved sit on his feet in front of the built-in firepot.

Allowing himself to experience emotion due to Kirk's absence was unacceptable and a waste of energy. As he sat watching the flame flicker, he heartened to realize how unaccustomed to this emotion he had become on the Enterprise.

Twenty hours after their encounter with the alien ships, Kirk pulled himself off the bridge for rest, McCoy nipping at his heels. Considering the enemy had warp, their buffer was miniscule, but exhaustion was taking its toll. He scheduled a meeting of the head sciences and engineering staff for nine hours later.

Kirk walked bleary-eyed to the briefing room. Someone handed him a coffee, for which he was infinitely grateful. As he sat down, the room quieted.

"All right. The primary purpose of this meeting is to determine the origin of those ships. They did not just suddenly appear in the middle of Federation space, someone must have seen them before. Flores?"

"Captain." She nodded. Her hair looked its flattest ever, dull in the cold light. "Engineering and Sciences have been working on this since the attack. Our current conclusion is that they are of Tholian design, but we don't have a match, so this is an educated guess"

Kirk sat back and took that in. "And the weapon?"

"Again, we have no exact match of this weapon in our databanks. A weapon of this type has been theorized previously and is considered feasible...if certain engineering problems were overcome."

Kirk nodded. "I want all resources in sciences and engineering and even history dedicated to researching this weapon and these ships. Any questions?" A few heads shook. "Well, let's get to work then."

Spock spent most of the next few days working in his quarters. He came out for meals only because Captain Sren expected it. It was at the end of first shift that his door chimed. Spock had not heard the door chime before, it was a calm, low tone compared to the Enterprise.

Spock triggered the door to open from the desk controls and D'Winh stepped into the room. She paused just inside the doors, silently waiting for permission to enter farther. At Spock's nod she moved to stand beside the desk. She was of below-average height for a Vulcan and of slight build. She wore the robe version of the Vulcan Exploration & Sciences uniform, a black garment with red trim on the collar.

"May I have a seat?" She asked.

Spock nodded and turned his monitor to the side.

She sat down on the edge of the chair in perfect posture. "This is only...a social call. As the humans would say." Her eyes travelled over his brown meditation robe. It was of the finest material, reminding her of his Family. His left eyebrow had gone up. "Am I disturbing you?" she asked.

"No." He sat back, hands clasped before him, the picture of control.

D'Winh tilted her head at him curiously. "I am interested in how you are faring here. I noticed you had withdrawn the last few days. Certainly you are not feeling overwhelmed?"

"No." He looked uncomfortable. "I am merely able to work alone, and am choosing to do so. Is that unusual?"

"On this ship it is unusual. I have no other experiences upon which to make a generalization." She looked him over closely again. "Are you trying to avoid someone?" She couldn't imagine he'd had a falling out with anyone so soon.

"Not precisely. I am simply most efficient this way."

She almost smiled to Spock's surprise. "Efficiency is not something missing from your work from what I hear."

"I am accustomed to finishing tasks as quickly as possible."

"Apparently."

Spock sat forward. Despite his earlier desire to avoid personal interaction, he found himself grateful for someone to talk to. He had grown accustomed to having Jim and McCoy to speak with frankly on any topic. "I seem to have different work methods than the other researchers."

"Yes. I have heard that too."

Spock bristled. "I did not realize so much gossip was being passed around."

"It isn't gossip as the humans define it. It is just a very small community." She studied his broad shoulders and long fingers a moment.

"What I really came to ask was if you had any interest in casual physical interaction."

Spock's brow furrowed before jumping to his bangs in a look of surprise.

"If I understand you correctly...I must...decline."

D'Winh stood. "I did not mean to offend."

"You have not. I am...unavailable," he stated frankly. His body was reminding him that sex had recently gone from being a very frequent phenomena to an absent one. He ignored it.

"I did not realize," she said.

Spock stood as well. "Apparently gossip does not travel too far."

"I do not understand."

He shook his head. "It is of no matter."

"I will take my leave so that you may return to your previous task." She stepped toward the door after another close but glancing inspection of him. After the doors slid closed, Spock realized that her earlier looks had been admiring ones. He shook himself and tried to refocus on his work.

The first shift bridge crew of the Enterprise sat tense as the ship made its slow retreat toward Callen Six, the closest Federation planet with a substantial port. The comm whistled. "Engineering to Captain." Scott's voice came across.

"Go ahead Scotty." Kirk said.

"Aye, I can give you a little warp power for aboot six hours. We've got it jury-rigged all ta hell, but, well, don' take it over warp one point six."

"Good work, Scotty. Helm take us up to warp one point six."

"Aye, Sir."

Hearing and feeling the warp drive kick-in released a lot of the bridge tension. They sailed along for most of Scotty's allowed time before Kirk stood and walked over behind Uhura. "Any reply from Starfleet?"

"No, Sir." Uhura pulled the stalk from her ear and looked up at him.

"Anything from those ships out there?"

"Not that we are able to intercept."

Kirk nodded and decided to head to sickbay for his morning visit. "Mr.

Tamarin, you have the bridge."

In sickbay, Uhura notified Kirk that Starfleet's reply had now come in and was coded secure. Kirk acknowledged and took great pleasure in finishing the rounds of sickbay before heading to his quarters.

In the recorded message, Commodore Mendez's face looked worn and sleepless. "Kirk, I hope you manage to make repairs. The Farragut was hit en-route to your location. They are without warp drive and are unable to come to your aid. We have received your sensor sample of their weapon and are analyzing it. The science and weapons people here have more questions than answers regarding it. We have no advice at the moment as to how to combat it. They concur with your guess that the ships are Tholian. We have sent an emissary to them in hopes of getting some specifications."

Good luck to them, Kirk thought.

"Will follow up when we know more. Mendez out."

He switched off and scrubbed his face with his hands. He felt disjointed to be dealing with such monumental problems without Spock's support. He felt more uncertain than he had in a long while and that bothered him a lot.

The comm whistled and Tamarin's voice came over, "Captain, we're approaching something, looks like it might be a mine field."

"Full stop." Kirk ordered, "I'll be right up."

On the bridge, Kirk joined Flores and Mr. Scott conferring at the science station. "What is it?"

Flores hit a switch to put it on screen. The extreme range resulted in a very pixelated image. "It looks like a very old mine field. If we can move in another million kilometers we can get a much better idea."

"Is that a safe distance?"

"Yes, Sir."

Kirk turned to the center of the bridge. "Mr. Sulu, bring us in another million kilometers."

As they approached, Flores watched the sensor readouts in the hood.

Suddenly she sat down and began madly making adjustments to the instruments. "Captain." She said with some excitement.

He leaned down beside her. "What is it?"

She yielded the hood to him. "It looks like one of those Tholian ships is caught in the mines."

Kirk looked into the hood. The three dimensional display of telemetry, energy readings, and visual imagery took a moment to make sense. As they approached, the image clarified into what appeared to be one of the disk-shaped Tholian ships caught in the field of silver bulbs. It looked as though it had taken a beating: burn marks and indentations were evident on the side facing them. Took a beating and remained functioning; he noted the stable energy output from the craft. He was both impressed and concerned by it.

"How close can we get without setting the mines off?"

"These mines are principally capture mines. They have a conventional explosive in them that also powers their engines. They move in on a ship and attach themselves. If the ship holds still, the mines do not go off.

It is only if the ship tries to escape that the mines explode and try to destroy it. Their sensors are of a sixty-year-old design, I would estimate they have a range of two-hundred thousand kilometers. They are not proximity triggered, they are energy triggered. Our shields would protect us from the worst of a blast. They are mostly a navigational hazard."

"How in the universe did they get caught? That ship out-classes the Enterprise and we certainly saw it in time."

Flores shook her head. "I don't know, Sir. It does seem odd."

"Position of the other seven ships?"

"They are out of sensor range. We have not been able to monitor them for over twelve hours." She paused and said carefully, "You did not state that you wanted to be informed when we lost their signature."

Kirk pulled himself out of the deep thought he was in and waved her off, "No, I didn't. I didn't need to know." He moved back to the center seat.

"If we move in slowly, they may not trigger, Commander?"

"Correct. According to the history banks, they are designed to not attack freighters."

"Well, Mr. Sulu, can you move us in and try to make us look like a freighter."

"Aye, Sir."

Kirk thumbed the comm, "Security team to the transporter room."

"Yer not going over there, are ye' Captain?" Scotty's incredulous voice asked. "I don' think we can beam ya' through that hull."

Kirk chewed his upper lip and thumbed the comm again. "Bely that order.

Security report to the shuttle bay." He released the comm switch.

"Scotty, I need your two best weapons experts. Tell them to report to the shuttle bay as well."

Scotty hesitated but finally said in a rough voice, "Aye, Sir."

Kirk stood up and walked over to stand before navigation. "Mr. Sulu. I am leaving you in charge. Mr. Scott is working on repairs and that is of primary importance."

"Sir?" Sulu sat at attention.

"I want you to listen closely. You are to wait three hours for us. If you don't hear anything, you are to take the Enterprise and continue to Callen Six." Sulu's lips moved without any sound. "Do you understand?"

Sulu sat even straighter. "Yes, Captain." He looked manifestly unhappy.

"I'm counting on you, Mr. Sulu. This ship will not withstand another encounter with hostile forces."

Sulu nodded. Kirk waited a moment, staring him down, before stepping up to the lift doors. "Flores, you are also assigned to assist engineering until repairs are finished." He then left the bridge with a meaningful glance at Mr. Tamarin who seemed confused. Flores stood up and moved to the engineering station. In theory, both she and Tamarin were ahead of Sulu in the chain of command. They shared a meaningful look before she turned to her board and pulled up the engineering schematics database.

In the shuttle bay the team was assembling. Mr. Scott stepped out of the door of the shuttle. "Everything checks out okay, Captain. The hatch cutter is installed, Flores thinks you can get through with heat, of all things." He walked over to the control panel.

Kirk followed him over and depressed the comm on the panel. "Bridge, anything new on the sensors?"

"The sensors are behaving very strangely inside that ship, Kiptin. The hull distorts the sensor beams. I am getting indeterminate readings."

Chekov's voice came across.

Kirk walked over to the four security members. "I want everyone on high alert." He then turned to the two engineering assistants. Ensign Taylor, Kirk recognized as the fumble-fingered tech from his last visit to engineering. She look properly in control now. The other was Ensign Briggs, Kirk pulled from his memory. "Your sole goal is to determine the nature of their laser weapon. You can record other things inside, but I want you focused on the primary task. We must find a way to combat this weapon."

He turned to the whole group. "Only short-range, tight-beam transmissions are to be used once we leave Enterprise. I want to go undetected by our other friends out there. If they realize we are here, I expect they will pay us a visit and they won't be as gracious as last time."

Kirk stepped up into the shuttle. "Load up."

As the Copernicus sailed clear of the shuttle doors. Kirk turned to Lt.

Watson, his co-pilot, "We need to find the flatest surface on that ship for cutting a hatch. Get a diagram up on that display for me."

The boarding party watched with no little awe as their captain masterfully piloted the clumsy vessel into position near the alien ship.

The metallic surface undulated away from them out the forward viewport.

Three unexploded mines held fast to the hull within fifty meters of their attachment point, burn marks and scarring evidence of their activity.

With a soft clang, the hulls came into contact. Several crew released their pent-up breath as the mines held steady. "Get the cutters going,"

Kirk ordered the security team leader.

They stepped out of the shuttle into a wide, dark corridor. Here and there clusters of status lights glowed out at them, providing some illumination. "Lights." Kirk ordered. Two security members pointed their portable lamps at the ceiling and turned them on. They all looked around, security with their weapons at ready. The captain turned to Briggs. "Where is the weapons control room from here?"

Briggs studied his tricorder. "That way." He pointed down a side corridor.

As a cluster, they followed Briggs' instructions, sometimes having to move one at a time through narrow passages. They finally entered a long narrow curved hallway along the edge of the hull. Taylor's eyes were wide as she took in the array of brand new equipment lining the inner wall, a self-contained generic fabricator sat beside an atmosphere scrubber and beside that, what looked like a chem-store.

"This is it, Captain." Briggs said as he began removing the panels from a hulk mounted along the outer hull. He looked back at Taylor scanning the other side of the gap. "Hey Taylor, get over here." She looked up and came over to assist.

Kirk leaned against a strut, observing the techs and the clock: one hour of the three he had alloted had already past. Panels and circuitry were propped up around the unit now. Both techs scanned in a silent concentration that Kirk did not want to disturb. Security stood at the ends of the alcove also silently alert. Kirk watched with interest as Taylor nudged Briggs and they discussed something in fast whispers that seemed to be degenerating into an argument.

"What is it?" Kirk came close.

Taylor said. "I don't think they've shielded the main coil sufficiently."

"I don't think it needs it." Briggs said as he unhooked another unit and pulled it partway out for scanning.

"What would that mean if it wasn't shielded enough?"

"Well, it is basically a large version of our subspace communications array. An electromagnetic pulse would cause the coil to blow."

"Briggs," Kirk asked, "You don't agree with that?"

The ensign sighed. "It would take a hell of a pulse to penetrate the hull's natural protection." He looked at the hull curving overhead.

"She's quite a ship, Sir."

Kirk nodded in thought. "Taylor, send that message to the Enterprise.

That the weapon may be suseptible to an electromagnetic pulse."

"Aye, Sir." She backed out of the way of Briggs and pulled out her communicator.

After a few minutes of watching to see that security was still alert, Kirk approached Taylor. "Get the message out?"

"Still working on it. Having a hard time establishing a low-power channel through this hull."

Kirk nodded and walked counter-clockwise to the next alcove. Security looked uneasy. "What is it?"

"We sent two scouts out around this loop," Smith whispered. "They are overdue."

Kirk glanced back at the techs working as he pulled out his phaser. He couldn't see the two guards at the other end of the corridor. "Anything on your tricorder?"

Smith pulled out his pocket unit and shook his head. "The inner corridors are made of the same material as the hull, it acts as a stack of lenses so you can't always detect what is on the other side. Haven't seen any energy dispersals like a phaser would have though." He hunkered down, hand weapon at ready.

Kirk stepped sideways until he could get a look at the guards on the other side. They were also at alert. In that moment, a panel slid open in front of Kirk. He looked up into the helmeted face of an Orion and opened his mouth to shout a warning. The phaser in his hand felt heavy as he brought it around to aim. The action was too late: in a blurred motion one thick, blue clad arm, swept up and across, slashing him open with a dura-steel cutting tool.

A vivid memory of Kirk's first drill instructor at the academy, a bulky Austrian women with close-cropped brown hair and a face as wide as it was high, screaming into his face "He who hesitates...loses!" burned through his mind. It was his last thought. He didn't feel himself hit the deck.

Taylor looked up at the commotion in time to see the Captain flung backward onto the floor. She would have screamed, had her lungs been functioning. Phaser fire erupted suddenly, seemingly from everywhere.

Hitting the deck, she scrambled into the shadow of the next hulk of equipment. "Briggs! Get down!" she yelled as as the panels they had removed from the laser unit where tossed about in the fire.

She scooted forward and peeked out. The captain's body lay just in front of her. Taylor knew to the milliliter how much coolant the impulse engines needed. She knew to the drop how much antimatter was added to the core after a refit. She apparently had no idea how much blood the human body held, because there seemed to be far more than was possible leaking from the body in front of her. Oozing in little surges, she realized. She moved forward in a brief silence, more fascinated than disgusted. A stray phaser blast made her jump.

His heart is still beating, she realized in amazement; considering he looked nearly cut in half. The heart is just a pump, when it runs out of blood it will seize. Something teased at her memory. The ship was silent now except for the whisper of the ventilators.

"Briggs?" she pleaded. She didn't really like him, but couldn't have been more grateful to hear another human voice when he acknowledged. She looked up at the panel on the wall in front of her and remembered her earlier scanning. "Get over here and help me." Taylor said, pressing the buttons on the panel.

Briggs came over in a crouch. "Oh my God," he breathed when he saw the captain; his voice choked as though with grief.

"Give me a hand." She had the cabinet door open and was getting her hands under the captain's shoulders.

Briggs looked from the unit to her. "You've got to be kidding!" But he moved to lift Kirk's legs.

"You got a better idea?" Taylor snapped.

Together they clumsily slid the limp form into the unit. Hurriedly Taylor shut the panel and hit the activate button. Slowly, one after the other, the full array of green lights illuminated. She let out a breath like a sob.

One of the security lamps lay at an odd angle on the floor nearby, just touching the fingertips of the dead crewman reaching toward it. She stared into the light as shock settled into her mind making coherent thought impossible. The near silence around them seemed to hammer at her ears. She held up her hand in the dim light, the red blood bright against coal-black skin. How can something be simultaneously so slippery and sticky, she wondered idly as she tried to clean her hands on her uniform.

"Let's rep...report and get back to the shuttle," Briggs managed. He scrambled to find his communicator in the shadows of the equipment.

"Mr. Sulu, we are getting a signal from the boarding party," Uhura said.

"Briggs and Taylor report they have been attacked and are making their way back to the shuttle.

Sulu turned to her. "Just the two of them?" He composed himself.

"Anything show on a scan? Flores, retake sciences."

Flores crossed the bridge in quick strides and looked into her hood.

After a moment she reported, "I only detect two lifeforms."

"Any more to that message, Uhura?" Sulu asked with a sinking feeling turning his gut to cold molasses.

She adjusted her receiver. "No, Sir."

The lift doors opened. McCoy stepped off and down to the command circle.

"What's goin' on out there?"

"We don't know yet," Sulu stated coldly.

Crouching for no particularly good reason, Taylor followed Briggs as they worked their way back toward the shuttle. It seemed much farther than it had earlier.

"Are you _sure_ this is the right way? I don't remember this section."

She whispered.

"I have it marked on my tricorder, okay? That's the procedure. I followed the procedure," he snapped back.

They exited a narrow radial corridor and entered a wide command and control area.

"This way. Almost there." He breathed as he reached for the rungs of an access tube to the next level up.

"Wait! What is that?" Taylor grabbed his shirt. "My hair is standing on end."

He shook her off. "My hair's been standing on end since we came aboard.

"No! this is-- Get down!"

"Come kind of energy release on the alien wessel," Chekov reported.

Sulu stood and stepped down beside him. "What happened?"

Flores madly made adjustments to the sensors. She sat back and composed herself before reporting. "There are no determinate lifesigns on the other vessel, Sir."

"What!" McCoy exploded.

The room stood still for nearly a minute before Chekov looked up at his friend standing behind him and said in a pained voice, "Your orders, Mr.

Sulu?"

Spock had been assigned to the bridge today, the first day of real data collection. Minor bugs in the sensor and collection code had needed fixing initially, but now they sat monitoring the output from the sensor array. The bridge crew did their jobs in near silence. Spock stood near the rail, watching the data stream on a large notepad, when he felt the floor tilt alarmingly beneath his feet. The pad clattered to the floor as his legs collapsed beneath him.

Dimly aware that everyone was looking at him, Spock put his hand onto the railing to try to stand up. His body seemed to have lost all its strength. Even breathing required effort. He felt as if the center of his torso had been yanked out leaving him insubstantial.

Captain Sren was in front of him. "Spock?" Sren did not touch him.

"Comm, call Healer Sunar to the bridge."

"Acknowledged," A distance voice said.

Spock concentrated on breathing until Sunar approached, although breathing, an obvious activity, seemed to have lost its meaning. Spock shook his head. An egg-shaped scanner was waved in front of his chest.

For a split second, Spock had expected Dr. McCoy.

"Can you stand?" Sunar asked, grasping Spock under the bicep after double shielding his mind. From somewhere the sense of how to stand upright returned and Spock allowed himself to be led off the bridge and down the corridor to the medical ward.

Sunar laid him on a bed in an isolation room, activated the bio-scanner over the bed and turned to Sren who had followed. With a nod of his head he indicated they should depart.

In the main medical ward Sunar said, "His records are incorrect." Sren looked at him in question a moment before indicating that he understood.

"Will he recover?" Sren asked.

"I have never treated one such as he, but it seems likely that he will recover. He will be in some difficulty for several days."

Sren nodded. "If you decide that a proxy would be helpful, I am available."

Sunar raised an eyebrow but nodded in acknowledgment.

Spock lay trying to remember that breathing was important despite a new sense that seemed to indicate otherwise. Sunar approached the bed and pulled a thick thermal blanket over the patient. Spock came to his senses with a jerk and sat up.

"Is is all right if I touch you to remove your boots?" Sunar asked.

Spock stared at him as if he could not understand the question then finally nodded.

After setting the soft-soled boots on the floor, Sunar studied his charge. Spock clutched the blanket around himself, trembling slightly.

Sunar supposed that Spock's hybridity would reduce what was exclusively a Vulcan difficulty, but that did not appear to be the case. He could sense shame radiating from the other. "I will leave you to yourself, Spock." Sunar turned and started out.

"Wh...?" Spock began. Sunar turned back. Spock was failing to hide an expression of confusion. "What is wrong with me?"

Sunar froze an instant before re-approaching the bed. "You do not know?"

Spock considered this. Considered the gaping maw that seemed to have taken the place of his very soul. He shook his head, unable to imagine an easy explanation.

Sunar stiffened and thought a moment. "You are suffering tel-tor shaya, a severed bond."

Spock's brow furrowed in confusion before he bent over himself with a strangled moan.

Bolstering his control, Sunar said, "I will leave you. You do not appear to be in danger now, but I will return if the monitor indicates you are in physical difficulty." His patient didn't acknowledge that he'd heard, but Sunar supposed he must have, so he departed.

"Jim," Spock gasped into the thermal blanket.

Lt. Hiraku Sulu stood straight in the center of the stunned bridge.

Nobody seemed to be moving. He looked to his right and saw Uhura with her fingers pressed into her closed eyes. Chekov looked defiant of the universe.

Sulu willed himself not to succumb to the emotions of those around him.

Tamarin came up the steps to stand beside him, head bowed as if to say that despite the fact that he should have been left with the command, he was willing to follow. Flores' gaze was also steady, less impacted by events then the rest of them.

"Mr. Scott, recall the shuttle on autopilot. Commander Flores, how broad is this mine field?"

"Approximately two and a half million miles. The mine density is such that we can pass through at several points short of the edge."

Sulu stared down at the center seat as if reluctant to take it. "Send the nearest passable coordinates to navigation. Let's..." He closed his eyes for a long moment. "Let's get back on track to Callen." He sat down in the center chair with a deliberate motion.

Starting slowly so as not to trigger the mines, the Enterprise backed away from the alien vessel. After attaining a safe distance and collecting the empty shuttle, Sulu ordered a course change along the field to the nearest weak point, about a half hour distant. They flew on in silence, the mines tiny specks of organized light reflecting the nearby star system's sun. They passed a tense ten minutes while they crossed through a sparse section of the field, then resumed course toward Callen.

Mr. Leslie, now at the helm, said, "Sir, three Tholian ships approaching, zero seven mark zero." Leslie wiped a sudden surge of sweat from his upper lip.

A collective tensing rippled across the bridge and Sulu felt everyone looking at him, waiting for him. He was supposed to be James Kirk. He was supposed to pull a miracle out of the air. "Come about nine zero and drop to impulse. Let's keep our back to the mines to limit their attack maneuvering." He stared at the screen. "Electromagnetic pulse," he murmured to himself, repeating the only other message they had received from the ill-fated boarding party. "Flores, what would give us an electromagnetic pulse?"

"All kinds of things. A spinning magnet, for example."

"What would give us a big one? Really quickly." The ships were closing.

Watching them on the screen, Sulu estimated they had about eight minutes before the Enterprise was within range.

She shrugged, "A thermonuclear explosion induces a significant EM

pulse."

Sulu and Tamarin, who stood beside the command chair, looked at each other. "We have some, don't we?" Sulu said. "For clearing asteroid fields. We never need them. Where are they stored?"

Tamarin paused a moment in thought, dredging up his review of this ship's manuals. "In storage bay three."

Sulu slammed his hand down on the comm. "Weapons! wait. Ops! Get all available personnel to storage bay three, we need all the asteroid sweepers taken to weapons and loaded into the torpedo tubes. Quickly."

He looked up at Tamarin. "Will that work? Will they fit?"

"Uh..." Tamarin began.

"They are not very large," Flores interjected calmly, trying to hide a tragic amusement.

After a few breaths, Sulu hit the comm again. "Status?"

"Sadhi here. We've found them Sir. We are unloading them to carry them more easily."

"Uh...they are explosives, Sir," Flores said.

"Be very careful with them." Sulu ordered. "Weapons, did you hear that plan?"

"Yes Sir. We are unloading torpedo casings in preparation."

Sulu was beginning to really understand why Kirk always forced everyone to think for themselves.

"Sadhi here, Bridge. We have the first asteroid sweepers in the weapons control room now."

Other voices came over the comm. "Load it this way." "It's too small, it'll rattle around in there." "You took the ejection mechanisms out as well, that is why there is too much space." "We had to, they don't come off easily."

Silence. Sulu tried not to chew his knuckles. A glance at the screen showed they had about four and a half minutes. They must have sprinted from storage bay three carrying the explosives. He tried not to think about it.

"Filler foam!" Someone said over the comm. "Someone grab a few cans. A couple rings of it will hold it in place so it doesn't move." "The case still won't open without the ejection mechanism." Another voice pointed out. "It's a fission bomb, it doesn't matter if the case doesn't open.

The casing will just cease to exist when it's triggered remotely."

Another forty-five second gap.

"Okay Sir, we have three ready and are loading them into tubes three, four, and five."

"Thank you." Sulu breathed. "Does someone have the trigger ready?"

Flores pulled up the specifications and glanced through them, reading faster than she ever had before. "It needs a coded signal in the radio band. I'll send it to communications." She nodded at Lt. Uhura when she had transfered the data.

Uhura pulled it up and began madly configuring her board. As her hands ceased moving, Sulu asked, "Ready?" She nodded affirmative.

Flores reluctantly said, "If they figure it out, the communications channel will be easy to jam."

Sulu stretched his shoulders back. "We'll just have to hit them all at once. Uhura you take torpedo six, Flores five, and..." he looked over the empty engineering spot. He hadn't called up anyone when he had pulled Flores. "Tamarin?"

"Sixty seconds to contact." Leslie said and swallowed hard.

Tamarin shook his head. "I don't know the engineering board, Sir."

Sulu stood up and waved him off. "Never mind, I'll take it."

"All set, Sir," Uhura said softly.

That voice is a balm, Sulu thought, wondering why he'd never noticed it before. "Flores, tell us when to trigger the explosions."

"Thirty seconds. One is peeling off, Sir. Seem to be wary of the mines."

Leslie corrected their course slightly. "Twenty seconds."

"They don't seem to pilot very well," Tamarin observed.

"Fire four and five. Now!" Sulu ordered a moment later.

The tubes emptied one after another. The bridge held its collective breath.

"Target one is coming close, changing course now, they seem to see it coming. I've got that one," Flores said, the picture of concentration on her viewer. Sir, your's in ten." She pressed the control and the fission bomb exploded as the photon torpedo passed within meters of the craft.

"Yours in five, four, three, two, now!." Sulu depressed the switch to trigger the message to his torpedo.

Leslie pulled his head from his viewer. "Mr. Sulu, one ship is careening toward us on collision course."

"Evasive maneuvers," Sulu said.

"Targets one and two are heading away."

"The third ship is coming back around from our blind side."

Sulu surged toward the helm, desperately wanting to take over. He stood behind Leslie instead, fidgeting. "Turn us around."

"Working on it, Sir."

From the comm weapons said, "Tubes one, two, and three now loaded and ready."

"In range in five," Leslie said.

"Fire at will. Flores, take this one."

"They are evading the torpedo: it will miss by too great a distance,"

Flores said.

"In range now," Leslie reported.

The laser shot out, rocking the deck. The enemy ship slipped away.

"Can we pursue? Or are we damaged?"

"Incidental damage," Uhura reported.

"Helm, take up pursuit. We need to know their top speed anyway."

"Engaging warp drive," Leslie reported as he handled the controls.

"Are we gaining on them?" Sulu asked after a few minutes.

"No Sir, but they are coming about."

"Ready on weapons and triggers. Tubes one, two, and three this time.

Fire them all."

This ship didn't stand a chance. It didn't get within range before being cornered by two thermonuclear blasts. After the explosions, the smaller ship began to drift.

"Put us back on course, Leslie. Mr. Tamarin?"

Tamarin approached the command chair. "Sir?"

"You said something earlier about their piloting?"

"Yes, Sir. I noted that they seemed to lack a certain expertise."

"Yes. Odd isn't it."

Captain Sren stepped onto the bridge. He walked over to stand behind navigation. No one monitored communications as a dedicated position.

"D'Winh, see what you can find out from Starfleet regarding the status of the Enterprise."

She switched her panel over to the communications configuration then hesitated, "Using...what means, Sir?"

He paused on the way back to the command chair, "Using whatever means you have at your disposal."

The corner of D'Winh's mouth crooked as she brought the subspace array online.

Nearly an hour later she stood and approached Sren with a notepad, which she handed to him. He accepted it and scanned its contents. The Enterprise (as well as the Farragut) were successfully attacked and partially disabled by unknown ships in Orion space. His eyebrow rose at that in concern. The Enterprise discovered one of these ships caught in a minefield and boarded it in hopes of discovering a weakness that Starfleet could utilize. The entire boarding party including the captain was lost. The Enterprise was now en-route, slowly, to Callen Six. He handed the pad back to her.

D'Winh erased the information as she switched back to a navigation console. Apparently the report had some meaning for the captain, presumably related to Spock's condition, which meant his mate must have been on the boarding party or possibly killed in the ship battle.

"Apparently gossip does not travel too far," Spock had said to her. She mused over this until the end of shift.

Under the reassuring weight of a medical blanket, Spock lay restlessly.

He had failed at meditation, which meant he had no means to control the incessant panic which threatened to overcome him: panic at his inability to control the discomfort, pain almost, of the emptiness.

All this time he had thought he was fighting the formation of a bond with Kirk, he had in reality been fighting the side-effects of a bond: the automatic melding, the continuous low-level empathy.

And now he had nothing.

He shook his head in disgust at himself. He should have suspected, Kirk always seemed to understand him too well.

The door swished open. Spock looked up as D'Winh crossed over to stand beside the bed.

D'Winh noted Spock's ruffled appearance. He managed to sit up and nod something that may have been a greeting.

"Am I needed?" For a moment Spock thought returning to duty would be a relief.

She straightened. "The data collection is being managed adequately in your absence. I came to see how you were doing."

Spock closed his eyes a moment before glancing around the room and shaking his head. "It is considered likely that I will survive," he said finally with a hint of despair or anger.

D'Winh felt a surge of anger herself looking at this being, at his shattered pride. Anger at whoever thought it rational to bear a dual-natured Vulcan and then raise him in the way of one of the strictest clan disciplines of their people, leaving him ill-equipped to deal with his own powerful emotion. She put the negative thoughts aside.

"If you wish a surrogate mate to ease your difficulty, I am willing."

He looked at her in surprise.

D'Winh had only ever seen one other Vulcan in this state: a classmate when she was a teen had lost her betrothed in an accident. Trem her name was. D'Winh remembered her as scared and confused beyond her young control. She dropped her eyes out of habit, then faced him again. "If I am not suitable, Healer Sunar informed me that three others have also offered to act as proxy."

Spock had no response to that. He shivered and pulled the blanket around himself and took a deep calming breath. "I will decline such assistance.

Though I am...surprised by the consideration."

"Why do you decline?" She asked sharply.

He shook his head and thought a moment. Speaking quietly he explained, "I fear losing my memories, my sense of him. It is all that I am left with." He bowed his head, seemingly depleted by the admission.

Sweet desert, D'Winh thought and felt her control wavering. She was intensely curious now, why he was here instead of the Enterprise, who his mate had been. There was absolutely no Vulcan way to ask. In standard she said, "You are willing to speak of him?"

Spock shook his head.

Ensign Christine Chapel finished the rounds of the remaining severely wounded. Dr. McCoy had not been out of his office in almost an hour. She frowned to herself and walked in without buzzing. Leonard McCoy sat as she had expected to find him: with a glass in one hand and a bottle of Saurian brandy in the other. She took the glass from his fingers; it was clean.

"Dr. McCoy."

"Huh? You need me?" He looked up.

"Eventually. Just checking your status," she said with a hint of anger.

_What gave him the right to sit here like this, as if he was the only one hurting?_ She put the bottle away after finding the cork under the desk.

"Too many injured kids out there," he said blankly.

"Yes. We need you."

"Can't believe it's happened." He stood up and they looked at each other a few breaths. McCoy turned away and walked toward the door. "Wonder if Spock's found out yet," he said before exiting.

Before shift the next day, Sren visited the medical ward.

"How is Spock progressing?" the captain asked.

"He is the same, though he is calmer now that he knows what is wrong."

Sren stared at him. "He did not know?"

Sunar shook his head.

"Does he need further assistance?"

"He has refused a proxy."

"Can you assist him?" Sren asked pointedly.

Sunar replied reluctantly, "I have only incidental training in meld healing." He paced to the scanner display. "I am very reluctant to try with him. I am certain his mind is stronger than mine and that is the opposite of what is necessary for a safe healing meld."

Thinking of Sybok, Sren asked, "Does he show signs of becoming dangerous?"

"No. Not at all. He is quite internally focused."

"If we cannot assist him, then we should take him back to his people where they more likely can." At Sunar's confused look, Sren added, "The Enterprise. It is headed for Callen, which is only fifteen days away.

Your opinion?"

"They certainly would know him best, but I cannot imagine what they can do for him."

Sren returned to the bridge to make the course change. He then had the undesirable task of informing T'Ring of the change in schedule.

The Enterprise limped toward Callen Six in a quiet funk. In the meantime, the Lexington reported great success in destroying another small fleet of the Tholian-made ships. Sulu called a staff meeting to make the announcement.

Long faces surrounded the table in briefing room one. Even Tamarin and Flores seemed to have caught on to the sadness.

"Well, some good news." Sulu said. "Lexington custom-rigged a more reliable neutron bomb torpedo and is currently clearing Orion Space of any of the ships that threaten them. Turns out the Orion lower families bought a small fleet of them off of the Tholians to take over interplanetary shipping in their sector."

"They couldn't have afforded them," Tamarin blurted.

"The Orions must have someting the Tholians want wery much," Chekov supplied.

"Yeah, but what?" Tamarin asked.

"Good question," Chekov replied.

Sulu waited for the conversation to cease. Controlling staff meetings was something he would have to work on if he wanted to command permanently. He continued, "This explains the poor piloting we observed: the Orions were still learning their ships."

"They can easily fix the shielding problem," Flores pointed out.

"Yes, and the Federation is talking to the Tholians pretty intensely about that weapon of theirs."

After a brief silence McCoy said mockingly, "So, we are heroes."

Sulu took a deep breath and held it. "Some of us died heroes," he said as he picked up his pad and stood up to close the meeting.

"God! I cannot believe it! Blimey hell!" Shamus Finnegan ranted after staring at his scanner. Snyder took a step back to give his captain more clearance. He had called the captain over to the cleanup operation because he hadn't known quite how to handle this particular situation.

This was not the reaction he had expected. "He has to be the luckiest God-damn bastard in this galaxy. Do you know..." Finnegan poked Snyder in the chest. Snyder resisted another step back. "Do you know, I once set up the perfect, I mean perfect, dorm room booby-trap on him. I mean, who'd ever thought of using Denevan swamp slime before? Who? It responds to electrical impulses, you know? Set it up right you can make it spell your name out, jump up and dance a jig, whatever. Anyway, what happens but the Vice Chancellor, _the_ Vice Chancellor, just happens to be the next one through Jim Kirk's door." He looked down at the scanner again.

"God, what a lucky bastard."

The tall, silver haired, Finnegan unhooked his communicator and activated it. "Smith! Get Doc Hayden on the horn." While he waited he said to Snyder. "Get this cleaned up." He indicated the remaining two bodies. "I think we're going to have to set up a mobile surgery in here."

"Hayden here, Sir." Finnegan's communicator said.

"Got someone here who looks in need of some pretty major surgery."

"Who!"

"Come on over and I'll show you. It is kind of hard to explain."

Hayden hesitated, "Are you serious, Sir?"

"Of course I'm serious! I...Tell him, Lieutenant." He held the communicator out to Snyder.

"He's serious, Doc."

"Whoa," was Mark Hayden's only comment as he used his medical scanner on the cryogenic unit's occupant. He stood up finally. "Uh...gonna need to set up right here." He pointed at his feet. "He's on the edge and I don't want to lose time transferring him after the time it will take to bring him up to temperature."

"Oh, certainly wouldn't want to lose him," Finnegan agreed sarcastically from his seat across the alcove. Snyder and Hayden grinned at each other.

Many days later the Enterprise arrived in orbit around Callen Six, her crew on edge and in dire need of off-ship time. Sulu was actually looking forward to relinquishing command and had let Tamarin have the con most of the remaining time.

The bridge crew was among the last to beam down leaving a skeleton crew and a contractor team doing repairs. McCoy, Uhura, Scotty, and Sulu stepped from the capital city port transporter pads together. McCoy started to ask which bar they were supposed to meet at when he noticed two Vulcans approach.

"Spock!" McCoy stepped up to him. The other didn't meet his gaze.

"Dr. McCoy?" the other, very hard-looking Vulcan asked.

"Yes?" McCoy didn't take his eyes off the very distressed looking being in front of him.

"I am Captain Sren. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Yeah, we can beam back up to the Enterprise," he said slowly, wishing he hadn't put his medical tricorder into his baggage. "You guys go on ahead," he said to the other Enterprise officers. "Is he all right?"

McCoy asked Sren.

"That is what I wish to discuss with you."

Spock turned his head to the side with a jerk as though he'd been struck.

McCoy turned to the transporter tech. "Back to the Enterprise."

In a now-empty sickbay, McCoy pulled out a tricorder as Sren explained about the bond and the condition Spock was now in. McCoy nodded and considered his charge. He himself had finally gotten over the initial pain of losing Kirk; seeing Spock reduced to this brought it back again with a vengeance.

"I'll take care of him," McCoy said. He finally looked at Sren. "Do you need an escort to the transporter room or can you find it?"

"I will find it." Sren bowed. "Spock, my best hopes for you."

Spock nodded but did not meet his eyes.

After the doors closed, McCoy put a hand on Spock's shoulder. His eyes were stinging with renewed grief and sympathy. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did not know."

McCoy shook his head and pulled out a hypo. "Well, you have four major chemical imbalances. I can neutralize them. It isn't much, but it will make you feel a little better. Then I'm ordering you down to the planet for some heavy drinking mostly because that's where I'm going and I don't want you left alone."

Kirk awakened slowly, reluctantly. The overhead lights were far too bright, and as he lifted his hand to shade his eyes, he felt strange soft wraps around his hand. The room smelled of sickbay, though different from McCoy's sickbay. He cracked his eyes open and spotted a familiar, silver-haired face above him. "Uhn...there is a hell." Kirk murmured as he shut his eyes against the scene.

"Ah ha, he remembers me!" Finnegan said, standing straight. "His memory is intact," he commented to Dr. Hayden in a helpful tone of voice.

"Where am I?" Kirk asked from under the shelter of his forearm.

"The U.S.S. Vuitton, Kirk me lad. We were assigned to clean up the mess you left behind in Orion Space."

"The Vuitton." Kirk repeated, pulling his arm off his eyes, braving the lights. "A light cruiser?"

Finnegan rocked up on his toes in pride. "Yup."

"Where is the Enterprise?" He wished his voice sounded stronger.

"Callen Six."

"Good," Kirk murmured, feeling sleep tugging at him.

The next time he awoke, he didn't see Finnegan, only the other man who approached upon noticing he was awake.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I've been cut in half."

"Well..." Hayden paused. "We haven't been properly introduced, I'm Marcus Hayden I sewed you back together. Only took about eleven and a half hours."

Kirk lifted a hand to shake. "Is that why it is so hard to breath?" he asked.

Hayden looked up at the monitor. "Probably. Give it a few days. You're strong enough now for the growth accelerators, that will speed things along."

D'Winh followed Captain Sren out of the bridge doors and into the hallway. He walked quickly and she had to jog to keep up with his long stride. "You sent him away?" She asked, incredulous. "Why?"

Sren stopped in the middle of the corridor. "While we are not a strict military organization, I feel compelled to point out that I am not required to submit to an overview of my non-scientific decisions."

"I am only requesting an explanation of your logic," She shot back.

"For the record, Healer Sunar could not assist him, and jointly we decided it would be best to send him back to his own people."

Turan and another stopped and were observing the unusual exchange.

D'Winh ignored them. "I thought _we_ were his people. I didn't think we would stoop to abandoning him."

Sren studied her a long moment. She wondered if she'd struck a chord.

"If you wish to ascertain the quality of his care, you may go ashore to do so. We leave port in two-hundred and seven minutes. I expect you to return before then."

D'Winh tried not to sprint to the transporter room, distressed with the thought that Spock would believe them all as callous as Sren and Sunar.

She ran through the basic calming mantras as the transporter tech configured her transport. By the time the beam released her, she was in full control.

With a certain flair in his step, Captain Finnegan stepped off the port pads on Callen Six. He walked over to the transporter tech. "Any idea where I can find the officers from the Enterprise?"

She looked up from her record-keeping. "What do I look like, the concierge?"

"Hey," he backed off. "I just thought since you saw everyone as they come planetside that..."

"Yeah, everyone assumes," she snapped.

Finnegan put on his best puppy-dog expression. "That's all right, then.

I'll find someone else to help." He started to walk away.

"Rumor has it they hang out in the One-Eyed Moose," she said to his back.

He turned. "In the Melange?" It was a rough part of town.

"Yup. Press'd been botherin' 'em."

"Okay. Thanks." He started away again.

"If I were you, I'd not go there like that," she said.

"Like what? In uniform?"

"No, like an Irishman." She grinned at him.

"I have never in my life seen a bar that did not want an Irishman as a customer," Finnegan shot back.

There were probably worse parts of town; at least the Moose was on a busy walkway. He walked down the stairs and into the moist heat of the place. It was crowded. It took him over ten minutes to find the officers from the Enterprise. They were at a large table in the far back corner.

Glancing around the surly silent faces, he said, "Howdy! I'm from the Vuitton, I need some assistance from an officer or a requisition signer from the Enterprise. Someone said you were them." Several, mostly blurry, faces turned up to him. He charged on. "Look, you left a bunch of equipment behind in G9 Sector and I need to do the paperwork and give the stuff back."

"Finnegan. You are Finnegan aren't you?"

Shamus turned as the man in the closest chair stood, equaling him in height, correction: the Vulcan closest to him. Finnegan had never seen such an expression on a Vulcan, it gave him the willies. "Uh, have we met, Mr?"

"We have met in a way," the dark-haired Vulcan answered enigmatically.

"In what way?"

"In a way that you would not remember."

Finnegan froze. _What the hell did that mean?_ He was accustomed to having his leg pulled, but this guy seemed serious and he _was_ a Vulcan.

"I met a reproduction of you once." Spock said.

"Oh, really?" he said weakly. _Gods. I won't ask, I don't really want to know,_ he told himself. "Uh, Mr. Scott isn't it?" He recognized someone, thank God.

Scott stood up. "My liver is askin' for a break anyway. I'll come with ya'" He wouldn't mind some assistance and a glance around the table showed that only Mr. Spock, who despite four hard ciders, was sober enough to be useful. "Mr. Spock, do ya' mind accompanying me?" Scott glanced at McCoy who waved them off.

"Indeed." Spock replied.

Finnegan froze then recovered his poise. Ah, well...

They materialized in the Vuitton transporter room. A few high-impact cases rested against the wall. "That one is yours." Finnegan pointed at one hand-labeled with the Enterprise registry number.

Scott opened it. "Five hand phasers, six phaser rifles, two lamps. Where are the other tricorders?"

 _Gods,_ Finnegan thought, _does he really know exactly what is missing?_

"I'm sure they're here somewhere. We'll check the sorting room. Follow me." He glanced back at them as he headed down the corridor. The Vulcan had remained silent since they left the bar, thankfully, allowing Finnegan to pretend he wasn't there.

As they passed medical, Finnegan backed up and stood before the door.

"Oh, yeah, and you left this too. Can't imagine how you forgot it." He shook his head as though he were infinitely disappointed in them and triggered the door.

Kirk looked up from his semi-reclined position, "Scotty!"

Montgomery Scott's face underwent a rapid transition from shock to disbelief to joy. "Captain Kirk!" He bounded into the room and grasped Kirk's arm. "My God, you are real!"

Hayden stepped over. "Careful," he warned Scott.

"Aye, laddie. Ya' don' know how good it is to see you. What happened to ya?"

Finnegan stepped over as well. "We found him in a cryo-chamber on the Tholian ship. In pretty bad shape."

"Aye, must have been Taylor and Briggs put ya' in there. They were the last left alive."

Kirk frowned. "What happened to them?"

"Aye, when they tried to leave a security field disassembled them. I'm sorry, Captain, the whole boarding party was lost. Well 'cepting you o'

course."

Kirk looked up and noticed that Spock had not moved from the doorway. In fact from here, Kirk couldn't even be sure the Vulcan was breathing.

"Spock?" The other remained still.

"Oy, beggin' your pardon, Captain. I have to call up the others." He pulled out his communicator. The party on the other end took a long time to respond and when they did the noise of the Moose could be heard loudly in the background. "Sulu! Get everyone up here to the Vuitton.

You have to see this for yourself."

Kirk dragged his eyes from Spock to Finnegan. "You didn't report ahead that you'd found me?"

Finnegan looked innocent. "What? And miss this great reunion?"

Kirk shook his head at him. "Spock." Kirk repeated. "Come over here."

Spock approached on legs that seemed to move solely of their own will.

Kirk noticed with no small concern that he stopped well out of reach.

"You all right?" The question seemed to bring him around a little.

He looked up finally. "Captain."

Kirk opened his mouth but was interrupted by an explosion of voices from the hallway.

"Kiptin!" Chekov shouted and he, Sulu, McCoy, and Uhura burst in. Uhura gave Kirk an immodest hug while everyone else touched him somewhere to confirm his reality. After explanations the room quieted down somewhat and Hayden relaxed, that is until McCoy grabbed the scanner out of his hand and used it on Kirk.

"Hmmmf." McCoy muttered. "Well...I could have done better, but it looks good enough. He handed the scanner back.

"Thanks." Hayden said with a touch of sarcasm.

Kirk noticed that Spock had backed up to give the others space. He held up his hand for silence. "Everyone, I want to talk to Spock alone."

"Uh, Jim..."

Kirk waved McCoy to silence. "Out. All of you."

After the room emptied, Kirk gestured for Spock to approach. "Are you going to be all right?" Kirk asked, shaken by the other's distressed appearance.

Spock stepped over and said, "Eventually."

Kirk reached out a tube-strapped hand to grasp Spock's and the other jumped back out of reach again. "Spock? What's wrong?"

Spock balked and struggled with himself for several moments. Eventually he whispered, "I felt you die."

"Oh, Spock..." Kirk yearned to stand up and take this other being in his arms. He couldn't move for all the medical equipment tethering him, plus he wasn't sure he could make it. "Why won't you let me touch you?"

"I am not certain what will happen. When you died the bond between us was severed."

"Bond?" Kirk asked carefully.

"Indeed. I had not known until..." He stared at the floor. "I beg forgiveness."

"Gods, don't worry about it."

The door chimed and opened. A short Vulcan women leaned in and said something to Spock in Vulcan.

"D'Winh," Spock said in Standard, "What are you doing here?"

In Vulcan, she replied as she stepped into the room, "I discovered that Captain Sren had abandoned you here at Callen. I was concerned for your well-being."

Spock followed her lead and also spoke in Vulcan, "I agreed with his decision."

She looked disappointed. "So you are leaving us?"

"I am not certain where I will end up. I may finish out my assignment. I may take leave on Vulcan."

"I don't want you to leave believing that everyone onboard agrees with Sren."

"I would not have expected everyone to be in agreement, but I must admit I hadn't considered it.

Kirk observed this exchange. Observed this Vulcan women debating what seemed to be a dear subject with Spock. Uh oh, Kirk thought. "Uh..."

Kirk interrupted.

D'Winh turned to Kirk, "I apologize for my behavior." She said in Standard as though it was a common apology for her. "I am D'Winh from the Zephr. I came because I am concerned for Spock. Captain Sren intends to leave him behind."

Kirk looked at her. "I think we can take care of him," Kirk said, not looking at Spock who he knew would not be pleased to be spoken of so.

"He is suffering from a severed bond," she insisted.

"Yes, I know," Kirk said. "The bond was with me." He tried not to sound possessive, but couldn't completely restrain himself.

D'Winh froze. "You are Captain Kirk?"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." Kirk bowed at the neck.

"Oh." She said then straightened as part of an effort to pull her dignity back around her. She looked at Spock. "I must apologize again."

She looked from one to the other. "I will make my leave now. The Zephr departs in twenty minutes." She gave Spock the Vulcan sign and exited with a last sheepish glance back.

Kirk appraised Spock, still standing more than an arms-length away.

"If you touch me what will happen?"

"Presumably, the bond will begin to reform."

"And you don't want it?" Kirk asked, feeling hurt.

Spock swallowed and met his eyes. "I...do want it. It formed incorrectly, that is why it is causing me such difficulty now. I need a healer's assistance, I believe, with a new bond." He looked at the human a moment. "You are willing?" he asked, nearly inaudibly.

Kirk sighed. "Yes, Spock. I am." He thought a moment, chewing on his cheek. "In fact, Starfleet recognizes a bonding as a marriage, correct?"

"Yes." Spock studied him with a new calm.

"And...we are currently assigned to different vessels. If a married couple is assigned to the same post the non-fraternization rule does not apply."

"They are unlikely to be assigned to the same vessel, Captain."

"Except on long-term missions." Kirk countered. "Wright you old devil."

Kirk muttered. "I think we can manage something, Spock."

The Vulcan in question stared at Kirk with a kind of disbelief.

"Anything wrong?" Kirk asked.

Spock shook his head and stared at his feet.

D'Winh transported back to the Zephr with five minutes to spare.

"Captain Sren requested you see him upon your return." The transporter tech said ominously. D'Winh swallowed hard and nodded.

She practiced her strongest controls on the short walk to the Captain's office. Her face showed completely impassive as she touched the chime pad. At his summons she stepped in and stood at perfect attention.

Sren stood with a pad in his hand; he set it down as she entered.

"D'Winh I am hesitant about your continued service aboard this vessel."

She stood silently at attention. He tried not to sigh. "Do you have a comment, Lieutenant?"

"Is this regarding my disagreeing with you, Sir?"

"It is regarding your propensity for allowing your emotions to affect your thinking."

"I was not raised in a Major Family, Sir."

"I am aware of that. Nonetheless, by agreeing to service on this ship, you agree to a certain standard of logic."

"Yes, Sir." She continued to stare at a fixed point on the wall. "I was overly effected by Mr. Spock, Sir. Now that he is gone, I do not expect the difficulty to continue."

"He may yet return when he has recovered."

"I do not believe so, Sir."

Sren looked at her. Now she had him curious. She fought the twitch wanting to take the corner of her lip up.

"Why do you believe so?" he asked slowly.

"I believe he will be staying with the Enterprise and his captain."

"His captain is dead, Lieutenant."

"Ah, actually not, Sir. I just met him on the Vuitton. He looked like he had, I believe the human expression is, 'been put through the ringer'."

Sren did not completely mask his surprise, to D'Winh's satisfaction.

"You are quite certain it was he?"

"Indeed Sir. I had a rather lengthy conversation with the Captain of the Vuitton regarding the human concept of luck. It seems Captain Kirk was nearly cut in half with a technician's tool but just before it was too late, two of his crew placed him in cryogenic suspension before they were killed by a security scan."

"Humans lead such complicated lives," Sren stated.

"It does make one reconsider the validity of randomness though, Sir."

McCoy arranged to have Kirk transferred to a ground hospital. With the crew madly celebrating, he didn't think they could manage to staff the ship sufficiently to make it a safe place for convalescing.

Spock settled into a hotel room away from the rabid emotionalism of the crew. He pulled out the comm panel and initiated a call to his parent's home. Amanda answered the signal, her face calm compassion on the small screen.

"Spock. I have had you in my thoughts since we heard the information release from Starfleet regarding your former captain," she said with her controlled, though still emotional voice.

At that instant, Spock missed Vulcan and his parent's house more than he ever had since leaving for Starfleet.

"It is all right, Mother. A great deal has transpired in the last few hours." He locked down his panicky mind. "Jim Kirk is indeed alive. He was picked up by a light cruiser doing followup after the battles in the Orion sectors."

Her eyes widened with surprise and delight. "That is remarkable news."

"I have a request to make of you," Spock said with seriousness.

"Of course, Spock."

He took a deep breath. "I need for you to plan a sa-kai talen."

Her mouth opened slightly but she didn't speak immediately. "You are bonding with James?" she asked eventually.

"Indeed."

"I...am not certain what Sarek will think of that."

"He stated that I was allowed to chose my own this time."

"Yes he did." She smiled slightly. "Very well Spock. I will inform him."

She shut the cover to the communications desk and stood up. Sarek was meditating in what she referred to as the stone room. Waiting until he finished was not something she could manage.

She rapped on the doorframe before entering as the door stood ajar.

Sarek looked up at her in question from his kneeling position. Amanda pulled a stool over to sit before him, hands clasped between her knees.

"Husband..." She hesitated. How was he going to react? "Your son just called."

"Our son?"

"Yes, yes. Our son just called." Not a good start. "He is requesting that we plan a bonding ceremony for him."

Sarek sat back on his heels. "Indeed? Did he meet someone while serving on the Zephr?" This had occurred to Sarek as a possibility when Spock had informed them of his transfer.

"Not quite. He wishes to bond with his captain."

Sarek thought a moment and then his eyes widened just slightly. "Sren?"

It seemed an implausible match.

"No husband. His former captain. James." She was going to be calling him by his given name from now on, might as well start now. "He was found alive in the Orion Sectors."

"Indeed. He is a most fortunate individual."

"You mean 'lucky'?" she teased.

He ignored the comment. "And they wish a full ceremony?" _This would require most unusual invitations,_ Sarek thought.

She sat back, forcing the tension out of her shoulders. "That is what Spock requested."

Sarek considered a moment. "He has not requested my approval."

Amanda took one of his warm, broad hands between her own. "No husband, he has not. What would you have responded if he had?"

The grey robes shifted as Sarek adjusted them. "Kirk is a suitable mate, I suppose, though certainly not whom I would have chosen for Spock. But it is Spock's choice and I am willing to support him in that." He thought a moment then added, "Though it is politically complicated..."

Spock sat in the corner of Kirk's hospital room. They were finally allowing him to walk around the floor. McCoy had an arm under Kirk's shoulder as he stepped tentatively around the shiny tiles. Two trips around the room exhausted Kirk and McCoy led him back to the bed.

Spock watched this being with new eyes. In two and a half weeks he would, quite officially, be his own. He had been forced to admit to himself that the prospect was more than a little unsettling. He let his gaze travel over the other. Sunlight shining from the window lit the brown hair and bright white, oversized shirt giving Kirk an angelic appearance. Spock noticed Kirk's gaze resting on him as McCoy settled him back into bed, knowing human eyes soothing him. Kirk understood him well even without the bond. Fascinating.

McCoy left to run an errand and now that they were alone, Spock stood and approached the bed.

"How was your session today?" Kirk asked. Spock was being treated by a Vulcan healer assigned to the Lexington on an exchange program. The Lexington would be leaving port in thirty-six hours so further treatment would have to wait until they arrived on Vulcan, just a few days before the ceremony.

Spock nodded, "Adequate, I believe."

To Kirk's eye, he looked about three-hundred percent better, which allowed the human to stop worrying about him every waking moment. "I miss touching you. I miss...well that can wait until I'm better," Kirk admitted.

The dark head tilted at a curious angle. "I believe I am recovered enough for a very brief touch." Spock stated.

"I don't want to risk hurting you..." Kirk began before his mouth was captured in an exquisitely tender kiss. "Oh, God," Kirk breathed, then needed to catch his breath. "Oh, please don't do that to me again unless you are going to finish me off."

Spock stood straight, but had a glint of tease in his eye. "As you wish."

The door chimed and opened. "Uhura. Please come in. Spock, can I talk to Uhura alone?" Spock nodded to them and departed. Kirk watched him leave with an ache that felt like a teenage crush.

"I need to ask you something," Kirk said once they were alone.

"Anything, Captain."

"Uh, it hasn't been announced yet because we are going to let Spock's family announce it, but Spock and I are...well...getting hitched."

"Captain!" she said, delighted.

"I need to have a sponsor present at the ceremony and since you are the most graceful person I know, I wondered if you would be willing?"

She flushed up her neck into her face. "Sir, I...I am honored, but I don't think...well I don't feel I am, well 'worthy' I suppose could be the word."

Kirk tilted his head at her in doubt. "Let me tell you the duties as they were laid out to me. One, helping me with the ceremonial robes.

Two, standing on the side looking moderately interested in what is going on. Three, if I decide to challenge the marriage you have to fight to the death for me, but that won't come up." She laughed. "No, no, that one I know from personal experience, so don't laugh." He rubbed his chest.

"You can't be serious?"

"No, actually I am. But like I said, it won't come up." His face went somber. "My mother is going to be there, but I can't have a family member as a sponsor, Dr. McCoy seems to think his participation will be frowned upon and..." he turned on his best smile, "I don't have anyone else to ask. Not that wouldn't trip over their robe or something."

"Oh, Captain." She put her head down a long moment. "All right, I'll do it."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, then added, "Spock's mother will make sure you know what to do."

Soft, heavy fabric slid up his arm as Uhura adjusted the silvery robe.

She crouched before him on the rough-hewn stone floor intent on the task of getting the strange clothing to hang just right. She stood straight and looked him over with a critical eye.

"You opted for a dress uniform?" Kirk said as the braid on her uniform caught the spare light from a nearby torch.

She apparently finally decided that he looked perfect because she backed up a step, hands outstreched as if to will his garment to remain in place. "Amanda gave me this." She indicated the long sash she had triple-looped around her neck to keep it off of the floor. "It seemed...correct somehow to be in uniform." She made a last tweek to his collar.

Winona Kirk stood silently in the shadows watching a graceful, buxom women adjust her son's costume. For a moment she could pretend it was she, instead of the rigid, dark alien she saw at a distance just minutes ago, that her son was to marry. She took a step forward, scuffing her foot on a high stone. The pair turned to her.

"Mother!" Kirk said in warm welcome. Winona nodded her head in greeting and joined them in the brightest part of what seemed to be a cave. It was an odd cave though, dry, not damp. Kirk spread his arms, "How do I look?"

After a long moment of difficult consideration, it became apparent that the elder Kirk had no answer to that.

Uhura cleared her throat. "We have about a half-hour, Sir. I'll wait by the exit."

Kirk's shoulders slumped as he let his hands fall. "You are...unhappy,"

he said.

"I guess I don't understand." She crossed her arms and looked him up and down again.

"You haven't even met him."

That statement seemed so unlikely that she again had no immediate response. She groped for something, "I saw him outside."

"Did you talk to him?"

It was clear that this was important to James. She took a deep breath, in truth she had been intimidated. "He was surrounded by what appeared to be half the ruling class of Vulcan and the Federation." His face indicated that this was no excuse. "These are people I only..."

"'Beings', Mother."

She paused. "Beings I recognize from news articles. Do you know what they are saying about this on Earth?" She sounded disgusted.

_Do you know what it is like living with half a soul? Do you know how wonderful I feel with him?_ He didn't say either of this things because he feared her reaction. Turning away he said, "Maybe you shouldn't have come. You barely made it. Why didn't you accept the high-speed shuttle tickets I wanted to send?"

"My son is getting married, I have to be here. And I made it on time."

He turned back and grasped her shoulders. "Then accept your son's choice," he pleaded.

"Why him?" She asked, thinking of the cold alienness of the being she saw as well as the group of other Vulcans around him. "Are you sure what you are feeling is real? That you aren't being manipulated?" Her eyes were bright with emotion.

Jim released her arms, wanted desperately to escape the bigotry coming from such an unexpected source. He stood still instead. "He is the most honest, loyal, caring being I have ever known." The words came out drained of emotion, not fiercely as he wanted them to. "If you can't accept that I wish to be by his side for the rest of my life and am willing to commit to that before whoever happens to show up for it--" He waved his arm in the general direction of the ceremonial circle. "--then you shouldn't stay."

She frowned to herself. "You are certain about this?" _I didn't even know you liked men,_ she thought, but decided it was pointless to bring up at this stage.

Kirk nodded. "Spock and I need each other. I can't explain, it is too deeply rooted in me to put into words."

She shook her head and with damp eyes took his hand and said and stood silently thinking about the past. Eventually she squeezed his hand. "All right. I'll trust you on this." Obvious relief washed over him, compelling her to embrace him.

"Thank you," he said with a gruff voice.

She looked him over again and shook her head. With a Kirk-style sly smile she said, "As long as I don't have to sit next to the President of the Federation at the reception."

Kirk started to smile with her then said, "Is that really a problem?"

She gazed at him in disbelief, "I really am sitting next to the president?"

"Uh," Kirk bent down to adjust his sandle. The reception had taken on a life of its own and seemed to have become the event for those displeased about the recent trend toward Earth isolationism. "I haven't seen a seating chart lately, but... Actually you two have a lot in common." He hooked his arm through hers and led her out. "Relax and do what I do: just be yourself and it all seems to work out fine."

They found Uhura at the entrance. She had arranged the metallic sash artistically over her dress reds. She looked up and studied each of them closely. At a nod from her captain, she relaxed.

At the sound of a distant gong, the procession started from just outside the cave entrance. Their little group of three followed two sets of bells and were followed by masked warriors carrying battle axes at the ready. "Is that in case anyone steps out of line?" Winona had asked. At her son's reassuring nod and smile she ignored them.

As they entered the circle, Kirk's eyes lost interest in everything except the being across the space. Spock stood in a deep red robe, unmoving except for the slight breeze catching at his sleeves. His parents stood off to one side of him, both composed as always. That is how it should have been last time, Kirk thought to himself. He looked beautiful.

T'Pau stood up and started the ceremony. She beckoned Kirk over with a knarled hand. He obeyed and knelt before her and braced himself as her rough fingers contacted his temple. Her dry mind brushed his a moment before she broke contact. Spock had explained that since he was an outsider she was compelled to verify his motives before allowing the ceremony to continue. Apparently satisfied, she stood with the aid of a staff and shuffled to the firepit.

She spoke in heavily-accented Standard, "Ages ago, our people cast out their animal instincts onto these sands. Despite this purging, our people still retain the need for the complete companionship found only in a bonding of minds." She looked from one to the other. "Kirk, you are the second human we have enfolded into our Family; even so, it is still a break from Tradition. Do you truly understand what is to transpire here?" At Kirk's nod she continued, "Spock, thee are prepared?" As Spock nodded also, Kirk wondered if the question was ritual or in reference to the broken bond.

T'Pau turned away and made a proclamation in Vulcan with her staff upraised. The bells chimed madly and Spock raised his left hand palm facing outward. Kirk pressed his own left hand against it. A symbolic test of strength, Spock had called it. The Vulcan pressed harder than the human expected forcing him to shift his feet as the hand came down and turned at waist level. They held that position for quite a while until Kirk, staring into the deep brown depths of his lover's eyes, realized a signal was expected of him. He nodded, suppressing the smile on his lips at the realization that the moment had come.

Spock's right hand moved slowly up to his face. Kirk brought his up to mimic it. The unexpected strangeness of the touch made Kirk gasp at the same time that the total exposure of his being made tears spring to his eyes.

Winona Kirk made a move to step forward but found herself restrained by the surprising strength of the female officer who had grasped her hand.

//Just a few moments longer.// Spock's gentle thought reached him.

//Trust me.//

With that thought, Kirk gave in where he hadn't realized he was resisting. Like living mercury, part of Spock poured into his soul. The only reason he didn't gasp again was because he had clenched his jaw tightly against it. The strange pain faded as well as the memory of it.

Warm fingers broke contact with his face. A glowing core of warmth and joy trembled inside him. He feared to move wanting dearly not to disturb it.

//It is not so fragile.// Spock said through the remaining link of their palms. Kirk straightened his broad shoulders and blinked in the excess moisture of his eyes before the joy he felt forced it to overflow. He let his hand fall to the side as Spock turned to T'Pau. "It is thus." He said.

A masked warrior approached them with two sashes setting each at their feet. In unison they bent down for them and reached around each other to tie them at the waist. Spock had told him they were to wear them when in public for the next eight days. The bells chimed and the processions started out. The two of them stood still in the center of the circle near the coals, staring at each other. Kirk tried to reach out with his mind without physical contact, but Spock did not seem to notice it.

Kirk turned as his mother exited with her hand in Uhura's and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. After the procession had departed and the wind overwhelmed the distant chiming, they moved as one to embrace and fell into a passionate kiss. The bond flashed into an instant meld and Kirk lost track of where his arms ended and Spock's body began. Spock broke off the kiss but still held the shorter being.

//Shall we retire. I sense you are in need of rest.//

"I'm all right." Kirk answered out loud out of habit. The kiss reminded his body how long it had been. The circle was completely quiet now. "But I would like to spend a little time alone with you."

"We are required to do so." Spock answered as he shifted to lead Kirk back to the caves.

"We are? Is that why the reception is not for thirty-seven hours."

"Indeed. In case that time is required."

"Required?" Kirk asked as they both ducked for the cave entrance. Kirk didn't seem to be getting it.

Spock stopped just inside the darkness. "Do you not recall the state I was in last time we were here?"

"Oh. I see. Uh, you aren't having any of those symptoms now are you?"

Powerful arms pulled him tight, roved over his back and buttocks. "Only in the sense that I desire thee." He tasted the other's neck.

"Oh, yes. Spock, let's find somewhere more comfortable."

The Vulcan pulled away and stared into his eyes a long moment, before reaching for a torch and leading the way deeper into the caves. Just a few turns in, they reached a stone door which turned on a center post.

Spock pressed lightly and the stone swung soundlessly, revealing a large chamber. After the wall lamps were lit, Kirk could see the stone pedestal with a thick bedding and black and brown sehlat furs covering it, as well as a wash basin and in the corner what were probably facilities. In an alcove beside the door there were food and beverage containers.

Kirk gave him a sideways look. "The honeymoon suite?"

Spock's brow furrowed, "I do not think that term would typically apply in this case."

Intense desire burned in Kirk, he wondered if Spock could feel it, or even was the source of part of it. He moved to stand before the bed and began removing the ceremonial robe. Naked he laid back on the furs with seductive movements. Spock had not moved, just stood watching him.

"What are you waiting for?" Kirk asked.

Spock stepped up to the bed. "I am savoring the sight of you," he stated.

"Savor me a little closer." Kirk patted the bed beside him.

Spock moved to sit on his feet on the bed, his robed thigh pressing against bare human one. Long fingers traced the still visible scar extending from the top of Kirk's quadriceps to the lower corner of his ribcage. Kirk's penis responded by stiffening and he moaned as Spock's hand moved to stroke it. Lips found his own and then his neck and nipple. He sat up as he struggled to slip Spock out of his robe. As the robe slid from muscular shoulders and his hands roamed the firm, furred chest he said, "Oh, how I missed you."

The robe finally gave way and parted to reveal a massive erection. Kirk bent his neck and took the first ridge into his mouth. Spock hips moved to try to thrust into him. Kirk added a hand and stroked knowingly. When he took a break and looked up at the other, Spocks head was canted back in abject pleasure. Kirk kissed the warm chest and teased a nipple, which prompted Spock to take him in his arms.

"Is there oil?" Kirk asked. His own cock demanded release like it never had. "I want you so badly," he whispered.

"You are feeling my desire as well as yours." He reached to the head of the bed to dip his fingers into a rough ceramic bowl. After coating Kirk's erection and watching the nearly maddening desire flare in his beloved's eyes, Spock coated himself.

"You can have me first." Kirk said, studying the gorgeous green shaft bobbing between them.

"We will have each other. There is no other way for us now."

Spock urged Kirk to turn around. Kirk lay on his chest with his hips in the air, legs well-spread. After positioning himself, Spock entered with ease, allowing Kirk a moment before inserting himself past the second ridge. As Spock's first thrust completed, Kirk came.

Never had Kirk felt anything so intense. It was as if someone had turned the volume up on his pleasure so high that he could no longer distinguish any of the sources of it. His balls were emptying into the soft fur beneath him and he knew his was screaming but couldn't control himself. And Spock was still thrusting, sending more pleasure like a high-voltage current through the center of his body.

Eventually the stimulation peaked and drained away and Kirk felt the warm weight of Spock settle against his back.

"Oh, God," Kirk murmured into the long fur beneath him. His eyes were wet from the intensity. Finding the strength somewhere, he rolled over into long arms.

Spock pulled his robe over both of them.

Kirk cracked an eye at him. "Not to complain or anything, but is a good long fuck out of the question now?"

Stroking the muscular chest, Spock replied, "Eventually we will adapt to the multiplicative pleasure."

"I don't know how many times like that I can take," he said, running his fingers through his own hair in disbelief.

Spock shifted, "I think that I can shield enough for both of us." He moved to lay on top of Kirk, their soft organs rubbing together. He shook his head and at Kirk's curious look, explained, "I could not have imagined _wanting_ to be here in this place."

"The right company makes all the difference," Kirk teased.

An eyebrow cocked. "Apparently."

Kirk sighed. "So we have how much time left?"

"Thirty-six hours and six point three minutes. Are you bored already?"

Spock began working his way down, kissing the smooth chest.

As the lips approached his groin he breathed, "No, not yet." Warm lips drew him in and he gasped. Hands stroked his abdomen and then his thighs and eventually his penis responded. He looked down and watched the dark head descending on him. "I don't know if I can...so soon after...that."

Spock released him a moment. "I can be very patient." He said before returning to his ministrations.

"Oh, God," Kirk breathed.

Well over a Vulcan day later they emerged into the late evening light.

Freshened and dressed in formal robes, they found the aircar left for them and headed into the city center. Parking near Spock's parent's estate was impossible. Official Federation and Vulcan vehicles had taken up most of the adjoining streets.

They finally entered the estate through the back, walled garden. A few guests mingled out here, enjoying the cooler evening air. They nodded a greeting and accepted congratulations from the humans. Eventually they found Amanda and Winona in the back rooms away from the main hall.

"Well, don't you look like the cat that ate the canary," Winona said upon seeing her son's face. He grinned and waggled his brow at her in reply.

He kissed her check. "I hope you have been staying occupied?" he said.

"Oh, yes. Amanda has been showing me around Shikahr."

"How are you both?" Amanda asked.

"Good. Very good." Kirk replied for both of them.

Amanda smiled at the two of them then turned to Spock. "Your father is ready to make the introduction." She moved to the door and they followed.

Sarek struck a small gong to gain the attention of the hall. He spoke in Vulcan first, then after gesturing his son and Kirk into the room said, "It is my duty to inform you that James Tiberius cha George Samuel is now also a son of the House of Sarek and T'hy'la to my son Spock. I ask members of my clan to consider them both as close family."

No reaction other than small bows was forthcoming from the Vulcans in the room. They began circulating, Kirk trying hard not to fall into his standard reception mode as this was anything but. Reaction varied from cool respect to warm sociability. McCoy handed him a drink at some point and after that everything was a blur until the call for the meal went out.

The two of them were at the end of one of three long tables. As the human and Vulcan plates were distributed, Kirk finally caught McCoy's eye. He gave him a pleading look and McCoy choked on the strawberry he had just bit into. Coughing he grabbed up the bottle he and the other Enterprise officers were sharing and came over with it. Bending down to serve him, he whispered, "How the hell you holdin' out?"

Kirk grinned at him. "Pretty well."

"Spock?" McCoy said.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Ehem." He cleared his throat. "Now, I didn't get a chance to say this sooner, but I thought I still should. You know you have a hell of a catch here." He gestured to Kirk who tried not to flush. "I don't want to hear one thing about you not doing your best by him, ya here?"

Spock looked as though he were considering this with grave seriousness.

"Doctor McCoy, I--"

"How much of this have you had, Bones?" Kirk interrupted, indicating the smokey bottle.

"Enough to make it through this party," he answered in a low voice. To Spock he added. "You know your logic won't always carry you through in a marriage, I don't want to catch you not taking care of Jim's needs just because it doesn't strike you as logical to do so."

"You may rest your concerns, Doctor. I do have some experience with Jim's needs."

McCoy straightened. "Well, I suppose that is true." He picked up his bottle and looked from one to the other of them. "Well, y'all need me, I'll be at the next table."

Kirk shook his head as the other departed but couldn't keep from grinning.

As the meal wound down and most humans seemed to be enjoying their third drinks of mild Vulcan wine, Kirk felt he should check on his mother.

Winona sat deep in conversation with the bulky, long-mustached man beside her.

"Mister President," Kirk said as he leaned down between them. "Honored you could make it."

Gerald Fredrick pushed his chair back and pumped Kirk's hand with vigor.

"Honored to be here my good man. Good to see our peoples getting along with others. Always good to see." He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and cleared his throat. "Your lovely mother and I have been having a wonderful chat about draft horses. Not a lot of breeders these days except on colony planets. Good to know others are keeping it alive on good old Earth."

Kirk nodded and put his hands on Winona's shoulders from behind and leaned close. "Are you having a good time?"

"Oh yes, reminds me that I don't get out much anymore."

"Quite a son you have there," the president said. "Don't know where we'd be without him." Winona patted her son's hand as she saw his embarrassment. "No-siree, we'd have a much less peaceful solar system if it weren't for him."

"We do the best we can Mr. President."

"Well it is definitely appreciated back home. I think your husband is looking for you." He gestured with his broad head.

Kirk looked up and saw Spock standing with the Enterprise officers looking at him with interest.

"Uh, husband isn't quite the word..." Kirk began trying to decide how to explain.

"Ah yes, what word have they been using tonight? Tahaiyla? Has a nice ring to it. What does it mean anyway?" he asked, accepting another mulled wine from a server.

"It means 'lover', Mr. President," Kirk replied, feeling his mother twist under his hands to stare at him in surprise. He grinned down at her mischievously.

"Well, ehem. I guess Vulcans have a habit of being brutally honest in everything else."

"If you will excuse me, Mr. President, Mother?"

"Of course, Captain," Fredrick said. "Better see what...your spouse wants."

Kirk patted his mother's shoulders and left them to themselves.

As he approached, Chekov pulled out a free chair for him. "Have a seat, Captain." Kirk accepted, more exhausted than he had any reason to be.

"Beautiful ceremony, Sir," Sulu said.

"Mercifully short," Kirk added, looking up at Spock across the table from him.

The crew looked at the two of them looking at each other and shifted uneasily enmass. Uhura cleared her throat, "We are all very happy for the two of you, Sir."

"Thank you, Uhura," He said sincerely.

Back on the Enterprise, Kirk almost couldn't stand the quiet of his quarters. Spock was onboard, but only as a passenger on the way back to Fleet headquarters. Even the realization that he may be apart from him again couldn't dispel the joy still brewing in his heart. The door chime was a most welcome sound to break the silence.

The doors parted to reveal Tamarin. "Lieutenant," Kirk greeted him.

Tamarin stepped into the room with his typical long stride. "Sir." He said then took a deep breath. "I've come to request a transfer." He set a data tape on the desk.

"Mr. Tamarin?" Kirk asked, honestly confused.

"Well Sir, I knew when I accepted this post that it was temporary."

Kirk looked grim. "Have any crewmembers been pressuring you to leave?"

he demanded.

"No, Sir. Not at all. Which I'm surprised at, Sir. I know they all want Mr. Spock back. I know you obviously want him back and I've been amazed at how hospitable everyone has been. I credit your leadership for that...Sir." He dropped his eyes.

Kirk sat at his desk and pushed Tamarin's tape back at him. "I can't accept your request on these grounds. It isn't fair to you."

Tamarin stared at him in surprise. "Sir." He pursed his lips a moment.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

Kirk took an obvious deep breath. "Granted," he eventually said.

Tamarin stepped up and pushed the tape back to Kirk's side of the desk.

"Captain Kirk, Sir, I am granting you permission to be selfish just this once."

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge: Spock and Kirk are lovers. Due to Starfleet protocols they have to keep their relationship secret. Unfortunately the truth is revealed. Starfleet decides to separate the best command team they've got. What do Kirk and Spock do?


End file.
